Like it was before
by newheights
Summary: Shane Walsh x OC Savannah set pre/season one. It's just something I wrote and wanted to share-it's hard to find any Shane fic, so enjoy.
1. The intro, which is short

I met Shane Walsh by going 65 miles per hour in a 45 miles per hour zone.  
It was one AM, I was on my way home from seeing a late movie (alone-how sad is that?),  
and I hadn't been paying attention to what I was doing.  
In my defense, no one else was on the road.  
But then, all at once, I hit what appeared to be a speed trap.  
Well, fuck.  
I was upset with myself for being so careless until I saw him.  
Then careless was the least of my worries, somewhere far behind my appearance, the  
sloppy ponytail my hair had been piled into, the utter lack of makeup.  
He was cute-more than cute, and I was in yoga pants.  
Bedazzled yoga pants, but still.  
If he asked me to leave the vehicle I would die on the spot, which says a lot for the way he filled out that uniform.  
Thankfully, I was not asked to leave the car, or issued a ticket, much to my delight.  
He let me off with a warning even though he probably shouldn't have and I slipped him my number on a piece of scrap  
paper, blushing and amazed at my chutzpah, hoping like hell that he wouldn't take this as harassment or as a bribe and arrest me.  
To my absolute horror, he unfolded the paper while still leaned over my window, which was when I realized it was an  
old insurance card containing every last bit of my information.  
I was mentally berating myself for being so forward-he probably had a girlfriend, or worse, a wife-when he looked back  
up and smiled at me for the first time, showcasing that classic heart-stopping grin of his before patting the top of my car.  
"Savannah, huh?" I liked the way he said my name. "You drive safely now."  
He was walking away by the time I had gathered my wits around me and was re-buckling my seat belt.  
"Yes, sir, officer."  
I call softly through my half-open window making his stride falter just the slightest bit, something I wouldn't have  
even noticed had I not been looking for it but alas, he didn't stop.  
So I headed home well under the speed limit and spent the next three days waiting for Officer Walsh of King County to call.


	2. Stranded At The Drive In

A/N:  
I may have taken liberties with the way a battery dies-I'm not sure how that works.  
I _was_ once stranded at a drive in with a dead one though. And voila.

He picked me up the next Friday night, and by the time we reached our destination it was completely silent in his Jeep  
save for the sounds of an old horror movie being piped in through his radio.  
Oh, and there was the sound of my teeth chattering. There was that.  
Shane turned to me supposedly to say something and break the nervous near-silence we had been marinating in,  
but lost his nerve, abruptly turning back to the wheel gripping tightly with both hands even though we'd long since  
stopped (_and_ the emergency break was on).  
His knuckles were turning white. Whiter, anyway.  
I waited on him patiently, which eventually paid off once he's screwed his nerve back up to speak even if he does  
so without turning towards me.  
"I'm sorry," he begins, his drawl in full evidence  
"This was a dumb idea-I didn't know it'd be so cold. Shoulda checked the weather..."  
He stops, trailing off at the frantic waving of my hands, a gesture I'm hoping will convey my complete non worry at this.  
"Stop it! This was a _great_ idea, Shane. I'm the one who wore this stupid dress-silk during a cold front?"  
I admit that I had wanted to look nice and impress Officer Walsh, but I somehow doubted that hypothermia was  
the way to go about this.  
"Are you kidding?" Now he's the one interrupting me.  
"That dress is great."  
I blush at his compliment, feeling like a kid in High School again.  
"Savannah," I look up from my foolish aw-shucks head ducking to find his gaze settled firmly on me.  
"You look beautiful tonight."  
And then as if he's making a decision, he bangs the steering wheel once before continuing.  
"Far too beautiful to be freezing your ass off at a drive-in movie I know we've both already seen before."  
Shane starts the Jeep and is backing up, leaving the parking lot before I can say anything to stop him.  
Or he's trying to, anyway.  
We scarcely get out of the lot before the engine dies, unceremoniously sputtering out.  
He's busy trying to get the heater on and I'm wondering why we hadn't thought of this before so it takes  
a moment before either of us recognize what's happening. Shane catches it just before I do and begins to swear.  
"Well, _son of a bitch_,"  
I glance over startled as he sort-of steers the car to the side of the road taking up most of the tiny shoulder.  
"What?"  
_Dumb question_ I think as he looks up at me clearly in misery, embarrassed beyond belief.  
"The battery."  
Hesitant to state the obvious I ask:  
"Jumper cables?"  
Shane takes a deep breath pausing before he lets it out again, rubbing the back of his head something  
I'm already beginning to realize is a nervous habit.  
"That idiot Leon Basset borrowed 'em. They're still in his trunk."  
There's a pause while we both digest this.  
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."  
My stomach turns over at his use of a pet name, but in a good way-something else I haven't felt since  
graduating King County High School all those years ago.  
I repeat my earlier sentiments;  
"_Stop it_. It's fine. Stop apologizing."  
Shane pulls his cell phone out (mine, I'm thrilled to notice, has no signal. Not even one bar.), ignoring me completely  
and begins making a series of phone calls, first to Leon who is on his way and will be here soon.  
If half an hour is soon.  
We could always ask someone at the drive in for help but that would involve much more effort than I was  
willing to put forth and Shane was clearly too embarrassed to do it himself.  
He'd been less-than-impressed with himself to begin with.  
This was just the icing on the cake, to borrow a phrase.  
I'm willing to step back and let him handle this, fix it himself if it will make him feel better.  
My teeth, the traitors, begin chattering again while I contemplate our situation and Shane, God bless him strips his dress shirt off passing it over without a word.  
I'm too cold to refuse so I unbuckle my seat belt to curl up wrapping it still warm from his body heat around me as I settle in to wait.

I was on what would end up being the worst date of my entire life, still curled up in his passenger seat twenty minutes later.  
In theory I should have been miserable. In reality I was happy although groaning at the miserably lame joke he had just told me.  
And, okay, yes, cracking up. Just a little.  
He had been holding my hand and spouting an endless repertoire of knock-knock jokes.  
I was hoping he'd kiss me to take my mind off of our situation and not turn into a 90's sitcom, but I'd take what I could get.  
For now.  
I would also laugh, partly because Shane was naturally amusing and partly because he was trying so hard to be for my sake,  
to keep me in good spirits.  
My opinion of him was already so high that I was of the mind that he deserved a medal just for the way he tried so hard to  
take care of me (stranded on the side of the road notwithstanding) and a freakin' parade for just being such a stand up guy.  
Stand up guys were few and far between, even in the backwaters of Georgia.  
So, yes. It was decided; for now I would hold Shane's hand.  
And I would laugh.


	3. Kissed You Goodnight

Leon, after an hour or so of waiting, eventually shows up with the damn jumper cables,  
enabling Shane to finally drive me home the Jeep's heater blasting the entire way, thank God.  
Shane's busy kicking himself over our botched evening while he drives so I keep quiet as he navigates  
the back roads to my home, parking his car at the foot of my drive.  
We both sit in silence for a long moment and I take his shirt off, handing it back to him without a word,  
shivering from the cold all over again as my exposed skin is reintroduced to the night air.  
"You wanna walk me to my door?"  
I venture watching him shrug his broad shoulders back into the dress shirt buttoning up as little as  
possible and he nods his assent just once before exiting the vehicle and coming around to my side.  
I'm perfectly able of climbing out of a car on my own but it's a nice gesture so I won't complain.  
He's trying, even if his mood has shifted to a slightly more complicated plain.  
"Hell of a first date."  
He almost laughs as he says this and rubs the back of his head.  
I nod, and smile which feels safe, wishing it wasn't after midnight, too late to invite someone in after a  
first date at least by my standards.  
Also, I wasn't sure how to handle Shane, couldn't gauge his mood from one moment to the next.  
Still, I linger there on my porch with him, waiting.  
"I really did have a good time tonight,"  
I'm trying to be reassuring here.  
He does his funny little nod again before going still to look at me for what feels like a long time  
there under the porch light. For one crackling moment I think he's going to kiss me -I feel as if I'm mere seconds away from going head over heels for this guy and it's terrifying, exhilarating.  
Instinctively, I know that all he has to do is kiss me, and I'm gone. I'm his.  
Instead, he takes a step back and smiles crookedly at me while I try to ignore the plunge of disappointment my heart has just taken.  
"'Night, Savannah."  
I bite my lip, crestfallen and determined not to show it as I unlock my door throwing a casual  
"'Night," back at him over my shoulder.

He's in his Jeep and I'm leaned against my front door feeling dumb and raw from his clear rejection.  
I may not be the prettiest woman he's ever laid eyes on but I thought for sure there was some chemistry there.  
Silly me.  
I take a moment to feel sorry for myself before grabbing the reigns of my emotions once more, tightly this time,  
and push myself away from the jam to flip the porch light off glancing at my big bay window. He's still out there.  
Or his car is anyway.  
Maybe his battery died again-you're really not supposed to turn the engine off so soon after it's jumped off like that, are you?  
I'm following this train of thought, wondering if I should go out there and offer assistance or ignore him when there's  
a pounding on my front door that makes me jump but not hesitate as I fly across the room,  
throwing the locks without checking the peephole. I know full well who it is.  
"Did you-"  
I'm in Shane Walsh's arms before I can finish my sentence being kissed good and proper.  
A good kisser, that Shane Walsh, not that I'm all that surprised.  
Finally, I break away for a breath and he steps back once more, clearing his throat looking almost shy.  
I marvel over this for a moment, how great this is.  
"Goodnight."  
I almost laugh out loud watching him haul ass back to the Jeep, cranking the engine.  
So it wasn't dead, after all. He came back for me.  
"Well, it is now."


	4. He Can Only Hold Her or Mushaboom

Before all of this-before the end of the world, come to that-Rick Grimes was just the best friend of my boyfriend,  
the one with the pretty wife we'd double date with when they could find a sitter for their handsome son, which was only  
every so often, sharing minimal conversation and more than one bottle of wine over dinner.  
Shane and I had been dating for months by the time the Grimes' felt confident enough about my permanence in  
Shane's life to have us over to their home for a quiet dinner instead of meeting at a restaurant and awkwardly discussing the menu  
as a means of pitiful small talk.  
It made me feel special to be so included in the world as the same Rick I'd heard about from day one.  
Rick had actually been driving the cruiser the fateful night I'd been pulled over, although apparently they figured Shane  
was more than adequate to 'take me down' if I became too mouthy, and didn't he just wish?  
He did, Shane confirmed laughing and when I accused him of wrongly pulling me over just to hit on me, he smiled but kept quiet.  
Wise man.

xx

It's just the couples tonight with Carl camping out somewhere in the neighborhood.  
The Drakes, they tell me as if I'm privy to just who the Drakes are.  
The weather's perfect for such a thing, laying out in a backyard under the stars I note as Shane  
pulls up to the Grimes' curb and kills the engine.  
The home is up a stone walkway featuring cement stairs which I find daunting in my heels.  
Shane helps me navigate upwards as best he can as I clutch both him and a precariously balanced pie dish.  
I'm just proud of myself for being able to exit the vehicle without flashing my panties at the couple on the porch,  
Shane bounding ahead of me dragging me along behind him, exchanging pleasantries.  
It's silly but it feels nerve-wracking, like they have the home field advantage here.  
Thankfully, I'm rescued from horning my way into an exclusive conversation by Rick who stands to greet me,  
doing his Officer Friendly bit as he makes a point to kiss my cheek politely as he relieves me of my Tuppawear,  
spewing welcoming platitudes all the while.  
"Lori, Savannah's brought pie."  
"Peach,"  
I offer only to catch Lori pulling a horrified face, as if I'd brought road kill to a pot luck, even though I'd thought my desert  
selection to be innocent enough. We live in Georgia-who doesn't like peaches? Lori, apparently.  
"We have just the ice cream to go with this,"  
Rick smooths over our awkard moment, bless him.  
"A brand new tub of vanilla."  
Lori, looking resigned to the entire thing opens up the screen door and waves her arm, gesturing to the house.  
"Come on in."

xx

Shane goes straight to the half-bath to wash up, leaving me to hover awkwardly around the living room by myself the  
Grimes having disappeared together into the kitchen, taking desert with them.  
I'm perched on the edge of their couch far enough away that I wouldn't be able to hear a quiet conversation-Rick proves this-but  
Lori is already past such niceties as whispered insults. "Savannah?" She guffawed as if the ludacrisness of my name is just hitting her,  
now that we're in more intimate settings. "_Savannah?_"  
I can't help but cringe as she repeats my name grinding it out of her throat as if it were choking her.  
"Who the_ hell_ names their kid after a city in a state they actually live in?"  
I hear a hushed voice in the pause, hopefully a rebuttal on my behalf, but I can't make out the words.  
And where the hell was Shane? It didn't take this long to wash your hands.  
"Brooklyn, I get. Austin, I get. But Savannah? And this _peach pie_? Come _on,_"  
"Lor-" Rick interrupts right out loud now, but she is on a full tear.  
"What is she, Miss Georgia? The state's goodwill ambassador?"  
"I actually work in an office."  
I announce loudly, leaving the couch to stand in the doorway between the two rooms.  
My hands are shaking and I clasp them together to mask this fact.  
"Just boring nine to five stuff. And what is it that you do, Lori?"  
I can't help this last bit as it slips out and the look on Lori's face...it was almost worth being humiliated to see her impression  
of a doe-in-headlights. Rick looks mortified (rightly so) and tries to rectify as quickly as he can, apologizing on his wife's behalf,  
but I don't care anymore. All of a sudden it doesn't feel quite as special being here.  
Thankfully, Shane blunders into the room startling us all by clapping his hands together and rubbing them in anticipation.  
"Awright," he drawls. "Who's ready to eat? I can't wait to dig into that pie, babe."  
I fake a smile, grasping onto Shane's arm simultaneously flushing with pleasure at his cheesy innuendo and cringing with  
dread at the meal stretching out ahead of us.  
Shane is clueless about the way his closest friends really think of me and I intend to keep it that way.

xx

So, yes, Lori and Rick were awkward to be around.  
I was purposefully trying to shrug it all off as 'Normal shit couples go through-a phase' (Shane's words, not mine.  
Something I'd overheard the next day while he sat in front of the TV watching a Major League Baseball game and talking on the  
phone. Meanwhile _I_ was in the laundry room trying to get grass stains out of his best pair of khaki uniform pants and contemplating  
whether or not I wanted to know how they got there. Probably not.) I'm trying not to actively listen in when I hear the phone beep,  
signalling that he's clicked off, and I then Shane's voice go not only up in volume but faux-gruff, like he means business. Yeah, right.  
"Sav? Come on in here, honey."  
I hate being called honey-hate being called at all; would it kill him to get up? but I like Shane enough to drop what I'm doing and go  
to him, gracelessly dropping into his lap. I'm trying hard to make this work, wanting him more than almost anything.  
Shane lets out an 'oof' of protest, but curls an arm around my waist to keep me from getting up in a huff and offers me a beer.  
We finish the game and his six pack of Miller together while his clothes go through the spin cycle and he teases me about being  
able to walk a straight line before I drive myself home, happy at last.


	5. The Scientist

It was a Tuesday afternoon, four days after our disastrous dinner party when Rick and Lori ceased being supporting  
characters in the play of our life and became the sun and stars of Shane's.  
This was about three weeks before everything went to hell in a hand basket and the thing I remember most clearly,  
even after all this time, is that we fought the morning of the accident and how much dread that caused me once I got the call.  
I had slept over at Shane's house, something I was still getting used to doing and while getting ready for work, left the bathroom  
light on after brushing my teeth. I left the bathroom light on after brushing my teeth _again_.  
Yes, I admit it was a bad habit, but to hear the man of the house tell it, you'd think we were running his entire property  
on a rusty old generator and gas was the new gold.  
"Hell, Savannah, the whole damn place was lit up when I got off last night!"  
Shane near-shouts indignantly waving his arms around like a lunatic and splattering the shaving cream lathered on his hands everywhere.  
He neglects to mention the fact that I had dinner and love waiting for him inside the blazing house, which is located way out in the  
boonies and quite frankly, it gave me the creeps being there alone at night.  
"Shane," I sigh deciding not to bring it up, either. "It's a two bedroom house, there aren't even that many lights-"  
"Darlin'" he cuts me off mid-sentence wiping the shaving cream off of his face in a huff dooming himself to be stubbly all day.  
"Let me tell you somethin'-"  
I know him well enough to recognize the signals-he's gearing up for a real bitch session, which I'll engage in even though at this  
point all I can think is that we probably wouldn't last long term (as much as I wanted us to) and we were hanging on by a bare thread.  
We should skip the arguing all together and go straight for the great morning sex.  
"Don't you 'Darlin'' me," I shoot right back, pissed at him for behaving this way so early in the day.  
Then, 7 AM or not, we were off to the races. The next time I saw him, he was covered in blood.

xx

I'm almost done for the day-it's so close I can practically taste it.  
I have one more report to file and then I'm out the door, free as a bird. Maybe I'd call Shane, make up with him.  
We could-my cubicle phone rings ending my musings making me sigh.  
_"Shit. _This is Savan-" I answer striving to sound professional.  
"Van." I'm interrupted by a gruff familiar voice.  
"Shane! I was just thinking about you,"  
This is met with silence. _Ominous_ silence, making me sit up and take notice, already clicking out of any open tabs on my  
computer and powering the system down for the night trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach.  
"What's wrong?" I believe I'm doing a fair job of sounding calm, indifferent until Matty in the cubicle next to me rolls her chair  
out from behind her desk, settling in front of me making hand gestures that clearly signal the question "_What gives?_"  
I wave this off impatiently noting the sirens in the background on Shane's end.  
Was he still at the station? He should have been off for the day hours ago.  
"Shane?"  
"Rick."  
My sick stomach plummets. "What hap-"  
"Rick's been shot." Shane blurts, knocking the wind out of me,  
Knowing they were on duty together gives me a thousand questions to ask and no idea where to begin.  
"Did he survive?" Is the one I choose to ask first. I'm dimly aware of Matty's eyes going round and huge next to me, but most all  
of my attention is on the phone clutched painfully to my ear.  
"He did, last I heard." I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding. "But they don't..."  
Shane pauses making a ragged exhalation as if he's forcing the words and his breath out, _making_ himself breathe while he practically sicks this up.  
"They don't know, Savannah."  
_Rick might not make it._ Viciously, I shove this thought to the back of my mind, feeling traitorous to have even had it, superstitiously paranoid  
that thinking it would make it so.  
"Are you okay?"  
I ask Shane, deliberately changing the subject.  
"I'm fine." He answers tersely, clearly unhappy with this outcome.  
"_Where_ _are you_?"  
I'm grabbing my purse, shrugging into my cardigan even as I ask, ready to bolt.  
"The hospital. Outside the hospital, anyway. They wouldn't let me call you from inside, something about cell phone interference-"  
He's rambling, something he almost never does and I ignore him.  
"Stay there, okay? _Stay right where you are._"  
"Savvy, I need you here..."  
He must, to shove away his foolish macho pride to admit this.  
"I know. I'm coming."

xx

By the time Shane had the presence of mind to call me and by the time I left work to get to him,  
he was starting to lose his hold on the fragile grip he'd kept on himself for Lori and Carl's sake.  
They'd been admitted to the ICU ward for a twenty-minute visitation window to stand vigil for Rick who was out of surgery  
but comatose and unresponsive. His chances started out as 50/50 laying in that grassy field and went down by the hour.  
Shane was waiting for me just like I'd asked outside of the Emergency Room entrance, catching his breath while I parked illegally in  
the Hospitals reserved spot for Employee-Of-The-Month.  
I could see Shane trembling from 20 yards away. Like hell I was going through the trouble of using the parking garage.  
My man-and I'd never really thought of him as such until that moment-needed me. Let them tow the damned car.  
Shane stood there, unaware of my rule breaking, covered in his best friends blood, sweaty, ashen, exhausted but basically okay until he laid eyes on me.  
Likewise, I was keeping a tight leash on my emotions, determined to be strong for him, until our eyes met and his face crumbled.  
Then my calm broke like a wave and I began to run to him, heedless of any cross traffic or my stupid wedge heels.  
When I got to him, Shane was doubled over where he stood, gaspy and hyperventilating with delayed reaction while I wrapped my arms  
tight around him, leading his face to the crook of my neck while he trembled and cried.  
For the first time in my life I wished to be bigger. Taller.  
I wished for more physical girth just so I would be able to shield the man I loved-and I_ did_ love him, I saw that clearly now, just as I saw that it  
could have been him lying there in the grass-and let him grieve in relative privacy.  
But I stayed 5'2 (discounting the heels) and so I did the best with what I had, thanking God I still had Shane.


	6. Hurricane Remix

"I didn't see him in time."  
Shane tells me once he's collected himself a little and brought me up to speed, so to speak. We're sitting on a smoking bench, and he's still leaned heavily on me, my arm draped around his shoulders. He is breaking my heart.  
"It's my fault. I-"  
I'm shushing him before he can finish, kissing his head.  
"Baby, it's not. It's not your fault at all."  
There's a catch in my throat and I'm hoping that he can't hear this, less it belay my status as the one who is keeping it together.  
"See, Lori says the same thing, says she don't blame me, but I don't see how. I was _right there_, Savannah. Rick's my _partner_. I should have had his back." I snort at this, which is not at all lady like and gesture to his ruined uniform shirt.  
"It looks like you did, Shane, at least to me. Someone called in bad information and you thought there were two men, and you covered his ass against two men, didn't you?"  
Shane nods imperceptively and I shake his shoulders a little.  
"Didn't you?" I insist.  
_"Yes."_  
His affirmative is quiet but firm. At least he's seeing my side of things- I hate the idea of him beating himself up over something none of us can change. "You did the best you could, and I'm proud of you."  
"I didn't do anything." Okay. Time for some tough love. Or at least blunt love.  
"You kept your best friend, Lori's husband and Carl's father from bleeding to death on the side of the road. That sound like 'nothing' to you, Shane? If it does, you aren't the man I thought you were."  
This, blessedly, snaps him out of it enough that I feel comfortable in sending him off on his own.  
"Go home. Take a shower. I'll sit with Lori. Go."  
He kisses me, hard. "I'll be back as soon as I can."  
"Take your time, get yourself cleaned up. We aren't going anywhere."  
Shane stands up to leave and even takes a few stiff steps away from me before whirling back around wrapping me in a tight hug just as I get to my feet. His mouth is pressed against the side of my head, muffling his voice, but I understand him just fine.  
"I love you, Savannah."  
It is the first time either of us have said this  
"I know. I love you, too."  
I kiss him one last time and then he leaves me to wonder upstairs, in search of The Grimes.

xx

I eventually find Lori and Carl huddled together in the fourth floor waiting room. They look exhausted and it's only because Leon Bassett  
recognizes me that I'm even allowed in the same area as them. ICU, forget it-this is a wounded officer of the law in small county Georgia.  
I'd seen less security at rock concerts up in Atlanta. I stand in front of the two for a moment, awkwardly groping for words before giving up and squatting down in front of them. Lori and I aren't close enough for me to feel comfortable hugging her (even in such dire situations I can't help but think about her mocking me) but when I reach out to grasp her hand, she allows me to take it.  
"I'm so sorry this is happening. Everyone's praying for Rick-he's a good man. He'll make it through."  
Lori, in her mussed bun and wrinkled dress nods tersely looking close to tears. It's the closest we'll ever come to bonding, I realize as the moments ends and I straighten back up to my full albeit meager height.  
"I see you've found Shane."  
Lori says, pointedly eyeing my sundress and cardigan, making me reflexively glance down, noting with slight horror the pinkish tinge from being pressed against Shane's bloody uniform. I brush at it half-heartedly to no avail before sitting myself down on the other side of Carl, surrounding him. "I sent Shane home to take a shower."  
Carl looks close to losing it at this tidbit and I rush to hastily reassure him. "But he'll be back. Just as soon as he can."  
There's a silence which I feel compelled to fill, so I formally introduce myself to the emotionally fragile eleven-year-old.  
"You're Carl?" Ask as if I don't know.  
He nods at his mother's prodding and I give him a small smile, offering my hand for a proper shake just as you would with an adult.  
I don't know what else to do.  
"I'm Savannah. It's nice to meet you."


	7. Great Romances Of The 20'th Century

Before anyone can react, or respond to my inane statement, a doctor wearing immaculate scrubs and hospital booties enters the room, bringing all activity and free breathing to a standstill.  
"Mrs. Grimes, you can see him now. But only for a few moments, we don't-" he could end his sentence a countless number of ways but I'm thinking he's going to finish up with "tire Rick out" which is ridiculous. Rick is in a coma.  
Lori rakes her hands through her hair, sending it standing up in uneven peaks and spikes, looking from Carl to me and back again, hesitating. I can take a hint-she wants to see Rick alone, take a moment to catch her breath.  
"You go. _Go_. I'll keep an eye on Carl,"  
She visibly deflates and thanks me on her way out of the door, tossing it over her shoulder as an afterthought before she's gone, the Doc trailing after her.  
"You're Uncle Shane's girlfriend?" My smile almost plays out at this-Uncle Shane, that's cute.  
"I am. I hear you're his wing man?"  
Carl looks at me from the corners of his eyes, but he's clearly delighted at the comparison, which is great except now we're stalled for conversation. I could ask him about school but what kid in their right mind wants to talk about_ school_?  
So I fish a dollar out of my purse, sliding it over to him on the sly, nodding towards the vending machine.  
"Don't tell your mom."

xx

Lori returns from her visit looking more tired than ever and gives Carl a sharp look once she spots the bag of potato chips open on his lap but doesn't say anything. _No one says anything.  
_Things have lapsed back into an awkward silence interspersed with the sound of a crinkling Dorito's bag, something I barely notice over my thoughts screaming at me that I am out of my league.  
Clearly, I do not belong here. I stand, stammering something about going down to the cafeteria and grabbing some coffee...and Lori's face lights up, stinging me, until I hear the familiar voice behind me. "Thought you could use some dinner." Shane.  
I whirl around taking him in, bags of greasy burgers in one hand and a pair of skinny jeans in the other, mine that had been left at his house ages ago, the ones with the hole in the knee and paint splatters. The raggedy old things that loves for me to wear.  
"And some fresh clothes," he adds, catching my eye, almost smiling. Shane also has an old Atlanta Falcons shirt of his that he passes over with the jeans while Carl greedily grabs for the burgers dumping the contents onto a low-slung end table placed in the center of the room and diving into a cheeseburger, completely heedless of any germs that may be thriving on the surface of said table.  
No one can eat like a pre-pubescent boy can eat.  
Lori looks amused and Shane looks a world better now that he's washed off the dirt and blood from this hellish day and has put on civilian clothing. I hug him to me before I can think any better of it winding one hand around his neck feeling his still-damp hair brush my fingers.  
Shane surprises me (and probably Lori, but I can't see her) by wrapping both of his arms around my waist in turn, holding onto me fiercely before the two of us let go. "You okay?"  
He dips his head in a single nod which will have to do for now, and I squeeze his arm comfortingly before taking off for the bathroom down the hall. Immediately, I strip my dress off over my head, stuffing it into a trashcan (it will never be clean again, even if the stains come out), and I pull on his dumb NFL tee, the one that smells like him.  
Later, Shane will thank me for holding down the fort, and eating burgers in a hospital waiting room but truthfully I'm rapidly coming to realize that I would do just about anything for him.

xx

"Well, Savannah Jane, your night's about to get even longer."  
Shane informs me once we've said our goodbye's hours later and climbed into an empty elevator cab. '_I doubt it'_, I think but don't say.  
"Why's that, baby?" The corners of Shane's mouth are twitching quite obviously but he's valiantly trying to hide this by rubbing his mouth and not meeting my eyes. This ought to be good.  
"That idiot Leon Basset accidentally had your car towed. 'S at the impound lot."  
I stand there staring at him uncomprehendingly as the elevator car jerks to a halt with a tired sounding ding the door sliding open to reveal an even more tired RN, who climbs on, keeping me from screaming.  
"How do you _'accidentally'_ tow a car?"  
I ask once I've regained (some of) my composure although my voice still carries a very distinctive whimper. I love my car. Not fanatically, but I do. Shane just shrugs unhelpfully while I seethe and fantasize about choking Leon out with Shane's jumper cables.  
"How much is this going to cost me?" I sigh, and Shane looks down at me, surprised.  
"How'dyou mean?"  
"To bust my car out. How much is it-"Shane snorts at my naivety.  
"Not a dime, sweetheart. We'll have it out by morning. Advantage of dating a cop."  
"_Advantage, my ass,_" I mutter and Shane pats mine possessively as we reach the ground floor, leaving the RN behind who looks intrigued by our conversation. I pretend I don't notice this and exit the elevator, dragging Shane and his grabby-hands right along with me.  
"C'mon," he offers, sounding exhausted. "I'll drive you home."  
Huh. I hadn't even considered how I would be getting home without a car.  
Thank God Shane had such foresight.

xx

True to his word, Shane _does_ take me home.  
To my driveway, to be precise and I kiss him goodbye gently, my hand to his cheek while he grips the steering wheel of his old cruiser tightly.  
I don't bother to ask if he's okay-of course he isn't. "Call me in the morning, okay?"  
I ask as I stifle a jaw-cracking yawn and pull the passenger door open.  
Quick as a flash Shane reaches out across my abdomen, catching my hand on the lever before I'm able to get it open more than a few inches. Honestly, I'm surprised at the movement-I'd have thought a crobar necessary to pry his hands from that wheel.  
I glance over inquisitively and Shane speaks just one word, but it's one that freezes me down to the bone.  
"_Stay_." He is plaintive, earnest, miserable. The love of my life.  
"Let _me_ stay," Shane elaborates, "I don't want to sleep alone, Savannah. Not tonight."  
I kiss him again, this time more fiercely, waking him up a little. Then I push my car door back into its 'open' position. "You don't have to."  
Shane visibly relaxes, killing the engine and opening his door looking entirely too world-weary to be mistaken for a Cop, now or ever.  
"C'mon," I sigh, digging my keys out of my bag. "Let's get you inside."  
We don't bother with the lights, TV or answering machine, Shane trudging behind me, just head straight for the bedroom where I strip him in an asexual way I would have deemed impossible just that morning.  
"Thank you, Savannah." Shane sighs into my mouth, kissing me before diving under my covers and taking me with him. "I mean it-"  
I reach up in the dark, place my hand over his mouth with unerring accuracy. "Shut up, Shane. Go to sleep."

xx

Me, I'm asleep within moments, drifting off with no problem, too tired for even the day replaying in my mind on a loop to keep me awake. Shane, however exhausted he may be, can't quite get there, waking me as he tosses and turns.  
He manages a few false starts, drifting off just enough that even in my sleep I feel his hard body relax and then almost immediately jerk back awake. After the second or third time this happens I give up on trying to hold him and just mutter 'I love you' sleepily, trying for reassuring.  
It's close to 3 AM, hours after we'd arrived home when Shane's lack of presence in my bed brings me fully awake and treading through my house barefoot and worried. I find him in my kitchen wearing a pair of boxers with an open bottle of Pepto-Bismal on the table next to his right hand. I want to blame the cheeseburgers, but logically, I know better-Shane is quite literally worrying himself sick. _That's it_. I think. _That's enough_. "I can't take another second of this."  
I blurt out loud, surprising the both of us as my voice cracks.  
"You need sleep. We both do. C'mon."  
I grab his hand and he follows me back to bed, docile, without protest.  
It's time to take matters in my own hands I've decided, quite literally. Before I can second guess myself I'm pushing him back on the bed and straddling him, clutching and stroking until he's hard and his breath catches as he flips us over, placing me on my back. I'd worried that this wasn't the right thing to do, that he'd get up and leave, but I was out of things to try.  
Thankfully, it works, the first time Shane slides into me being mindless and quick before he regained his tenderness and took his time for the second go-round, the both of us shaking together in the dark.  
"I love you." Shane breathes, barely rolling off of me onto his side once we're through, and then he's out like a light.  
And this time, when I doze off, I sleep soundly.


	8. Lost In You

The next few weeks find me taking on the challenge of helping Shane help Lori and Carl get through this disaster.  
The poor guy's not only without a partner, the County's without a Sheriff.  
Everyone's trying to pick up the slack but this only results in 12 hour shifts 5 days a week from the cranky men, mine included.  
Shane's two days off he's either sleeping or at the hospital and I'm not sure how much longer he can keep this up.  
It's midnight on a Friday and I'm watching a rerun of Breaking Bad, trying to come up with an inoffensive way to broach the subject of Shane having taken too much upon himself when he shows up. Or at least I_ hope_ it's him, I think to myself, as I sit bolt upright in my easy chair.  
The sound of my door falling short against the security chain practically gives me a heart attack. I automatically reach for the cordless phone lying nearby, wondering if I should call 911 or just cut to the chase and call my boyfriend if this is in fact an intruder.  
Shane's apt to get here faster in all honesty considering how swamped they've been at the station, and-"Savannah?"  
Not an intruder, thank God. Shane. "You awake, Savannah Jane?"  
Probably the only person who could not only call me by my middle name at will, but give me goosebumps while he does so.  
"Coming!" I call before muting the TV and going to open the door to him.  
I hadn't exactly been expecting Shane, but I couldn't necessarily claim surprise at the fact he'd turned up, either.  
Perversely, the trauma of Rick being shot had brought us closer together than ever-he'd even taken me to meet his crazy Grandma Gene  
with the spoon and thimble collection who approved heartily of me. I was glad to see him.  
And him me, judging by the way he came right in for a kiss and a cuddle. "I see you listened about the chain."  
I think back, hazily remembering the night before, when I'd slept through the car pulling into my driveway, my neighbors dogs barking to sound the alarm and the sound of my latch being thrown. The weight on my bed, the shifting of my mattress is what stirs me.  
Shane, already stripped down to his boxers is silhouetted, the first thing I see as I come fully awake.  
"Hi," I smile sleepily, cringing at the rush of cold as he throws my duvet back to climb underneath it.  
"Girl, what'd I tell you about that security chain?" Shane scolds. He'd told me to keep it latched at all times while home alone.  
But if I'd done that he wouldn't be next to me right now after coming off the night shift, so I pretend I hadn't heard him speak.  
"What time is it?" Shane groans, stretching out next to me. "After two. Go back to sleep."  
I'm not about to protest this, not at 2 AM when he's in my bed, spooning against me, hands splayed on my stomach and face buried in the back of my neck, taking my breath away-he's freezing.  
"Holy cow," I protest, my voice hushed although I have no idea why, not when it's just us. "You're cold!"  
"Cold outside." Shen mutters. "Go to sleep, S'vannah."  
He's well on his way, and I join him, leaving him to sleep it off as I go into work the next morning.  
"I did. Didn't want another creep crawling into bed with me,"  
Shane kisses me again, ignoring my snark.  
"Mmm," I sigh happily. "Hi,"  
Shane, who looks dog tired, smiles as he runs the back of his index finger over my cheek. "Hey, baby."  
Still in his uniform when he'd gone in at 11 AM, so I know he's here straight from patrol.  
I ask the same question any self-respecting Southern woman would: "Have you eaten?"  
He shakes his head at me, rubbing his face and yawning hugely as his rough hands rasp over his way-past 5 o'clock shadow.  
"Sit," I command and Shane practically falls into the chair at the head of my dining room table.  
He looks good there, I can't help but note. Better than the sad card table at his place that serves as both desk and dining room.  
"I made lasagna," I offer, waving the Tupperware around before scooping a healthy portion onto his plate.  
"You want bread? Shane?" He snaps out of his day dream, or more aptly, waking daze at the sound of his name.  
"What? No, no." I stick the plate in the microwave and start the timer before starting over to him cautiously-I never quite know when he needs his space.  
"Hard night, baby?" I ask inanely, laying my hand on top of his head, tugging at his curls in a way I know he likes.  
He is in desperate need of a haircut.  
"This whole _day's_ been shitty." Shane confides, leaning into me just a little. "Some guy _bit_ his wife, you believe that?  
We got there too late and she died up at the Hospital." Wow.  
"People are crazy," I soothe, rubbing his back trying not to be completely rattled by this news.  
"I'm sure you all tried your best, Shane,"  
He pulls me in for a kiss and my hand reaches up to squeeze the back of his neck, causing him to sit straight up as if I'd just electrocuted him.  
"Hey Savvy? Let's go on to bed."  
His voice is as sexy and raspy as his almost-beard and almost enticing until my microwave beeps, snapping me out of it. "But your dinner-"  
Shane's standing, sweeping me into his arms before I can finish.  
"Hell, it's already been re-heated once. Besides, I need you a whole hell of a lot more than I need your lasagna right now."  
I smile as he presses his hips to mine suggestively-I can't help it. "Are you saying you don't like my cooking?" I tease.  
"I love your cooking, girl," Shane says right in my ear in-between pressing kisses along my neck and jaw making me shiver and clutch him tighter to me. "Just not as much as I love you." This is the perfect answer.  
Abruptly I'm lost in him and neither one of us can make it to my bedroom fast enough.  
It's times like these I'm glad we at least have a runner in the hallway.


	9. Do The Panic

A/N: Thank you all for the kind words you are truly incredible! It blows my mind (in a good way) that people enjoy my ramblings.  
Now is where we get into the juicy stuff, so bear with me-I've tried to keep it original while following the story line instead of just throwing another character into things we've already seen, so here goes. xx

The next morning dawns blissfully with me tucked into Shane's side.  
Shane, who is snoring, his dinner plate practically licked clean on the floor next to my bed and best of all? The alarm clock is firmly in the 'off' position. It's his day off and I intend to let him sleep as long as possible, maybe let him wake up to breakfast in bed.  
I'm loving the roll of cute girlfriend almost as much as I'm hating the rug burns on my knees. Sheesh.  
The plan (and sadly, my dinner plate) quickly go the way of the dodo shortly after I catch a glimpse of the TV on my way through the living room. There's a dumb horror movie playing on the still-muted AMC, something gory and awful.  
I've never been a fan of the genre but this seems a little extreme, especially for cable TV this early in the morning.  
I sigh and try not to look as I flick through the channels to find something a little more palatable, thank you very much.  
Except...except it's on every channel and now that I look more closely it looks an awful lot like an all-points news bulletin, the kind with the little terror alert color in the corner, which is blinking red. Apparently, people were dying in mass quantities.  
Terrifying enough in itself but they weren't staying dead, getting right back up and eating whichever unlucky souls are near enough to be dined on. Numbly, I cast my mind back-didn't Shane mention something about this last night? Someone being bit...? Oh, God.  
This is when my plate goes crashing to the floor as I fumble at the remote control, already beginning to panic as I jack the volume up, catching a major news anchor in mid-sentence.  
"Spread via touch, air, fluids or blood." Anderson Cooper tells the camera, looking disheveled and somehow that scares me even more.  
I'd never seen him in less than a suit and tie perfectly groomed even when he was on the Kathy Griffin show and that bitch was crazy.  
"Keep your distance from-"  
"SHANE!" I scream, over-riding the silver fox and either something in my tone of voice or just my sheer volume wakes him right up.  
Thank God for all of his years in training making him immediately alert.  
"_What_, Savannah Jane? Good God-"  
I seize his arm tightly half due to panic and half just to have the proximity, pointing emphatically at the screen with my free hand and Shane shuts right up. Later, he'll tell me about the sliver of glass he'd stepped in, cutting his heel but now neither of us notice.  
"-Immediately if you suspect someone of carrying the Walker Disease. Symptoms may include-"  
"People are getting up from the dead and eating each other,"  
I babble, trying to sum up the current events and it's only when Shane shushes me that I realize I've begun to cry.  
It hits me all over again: This is real. It's not some elaborate prank.  
"-Seeking shelter in major metropolitan areas such as Chicago, Houston, Philadelphia, Atlanta-"  
"I have to go into work."  
Shane blurts and I practically swallow my own tongue from the shock.  
"WHAT?" I explode instead. "Didn't you hear them? We have to get to Atlanta, or nail our windows shut if we decide to stay put, or-"  
"It's a national emergency, Savannah, not a hurricane. People are probably out there panicking, hell_ you're_ panicking and the station's going to need all hands on deck."  
This is when I begin to cry in earnest, fully aware of it this time and still unable to stop.  
"Shane. Don't. Please?"  
He's close to wavering just for a moment I can see it in his face and I fervently wish he would, but the moment passes as quickly as it came when he finds his resolve.  
"Listen to me. Are you listening?"  
Shane cups my face and waits patiently until I nod. His patience with me that day when time is so critical is something I will always love him for. "Pack a bag, okay? As much as you can. Clothes, bottled water, medicine, whatever you can fit in the Jeep. Then head over to Lori's and wait for me there."  
_Lori's?_ This brings me up short but I keep quiet unwilling to argue.  
"I'm going to the station, then to check on Rick. I'll come get you when I'm through and the four of us will get out of town from there.  
I promise you, Sav. We're gonna be okay-I love you."  
I kiss Shane hard and hope to God it's not the last time I'll do so.  
"If I'm not there by this evening, leave without me. I mean it. Six O'clock, head for Atlanta. I'll catch up."  
My throat catches at this. "I love you. Be careful, okay? Make sure to get your ass back to me."  
Shane nods, dipping his head and goes to dress in last nights wrinkled uniform while I drag my suitcases from the attic and try to pack my entire life into them.


	10. I Can Barely Breathe

It's been a month, maybe two. I've lost track of time and so has everyone else-it's easy to forget what day it is when you're  
spending it fighting for your life. At the moment, we have a reprieve and I'm outside in the fresh air almost enjoying a beautiful day,  
discussing mushrooms with Amy and teasing her about the infamous white jeans.  
Amy is one of the survivors in the group we'd hooked up with after things in Atlanta had gone to shit.  
She is also currently one of my favorite people in the world, bedraggled having just gotten back from scavenging and Lori practically leaps up from her seat on a nearby log all too happy to relieve her. It would almost be suspicious, but I feel Lori's pain: the camp can make you stir crazy. If she hadn't been so quick on the draw I might have been the one heading out for the afternoon.  
"Excuse me, miss denim cutoffs," Amy faux-sneers in real time, snapping me from my thoughts.  
"Amy, you know I just like to give you shit," I reassure her absent-mindedly, wondering where the hell Shane had gone off to now.  
"You packed for a road trip with your sister, not the end of the world as we know it. Me? I have no excuses."  
She laughs and throws a twig at me, chasing Shane from my mind as I realize that, crazy as it seems, I'm almost content.  
Not settled, not happy by a long shot, but I'm content. And that's enough for now.  
"Who do you think that was on the radio?" Amy asks for the hundredth time and the rest of the group is more than ready to chime in with  
their opinion. I settle back to listen to the same conversation we've had twenty times over-it's not like we have anything new to  
discus. Amy may have been the one to bring it up, but Dale is quickly running the show, steering from our Mystery Man in Atlanta  
to the section of our group in Atlanta, worrying over them, their whereabouts.  
Eventually Amy starts pacing back and forth near the old man who has temporarily climbed down off of his perch to make yet another repair on the rusty RV he drives.  
Sometime during our talk, Lori and Shane have both resurfaced, the former looking flushed and happy as she immediately sets about helping me fold up the laundry on the line before it begins to rain, (I didn't even have to ask for her help, for once) the latter stealthily grabbing my ass and dropping a kiss on the top of my head, murmuring "Hey, S'vannah," and then wondering off to teach Carl how to tie twenty different kinds of knots. I wasn't sure if he'd actually need this skill, but it was good to keep the kids occupied.  
I was glad Shane was taking a cue from Lori and just being helpful. "It's cute, don't you think?"  
I mention off-handedly to Lori as I snap a sheet. She's been staring at the two of them since Shane sat down. "Hmm?"  
"He's good to Carl," Lori nods. "And he's stepped up to lead the rest of the group. I'm proud of him." She's proud of him?  
"Attaboy," Shane says to Carl making her grin wider and I'm wondering if I should comment on this or not, her behavior, this hero worship when the CB crackles to life halting everyone in their tracks, myself included, catty remarks forgotten as T-Dog's voice comes over the line, telling us in a cracking voice that they're trapped.  
For a long moment no one moves or reacts, stunned and I feel my heart stutter in my chest.  
"Well, we'll just go after them," Amy announces, filled with panic, not thinking straight for a moment, bringing on a heated debate-can we risk losing more people? People we've become attached to, grown to love?  
Amy, unfortunately, does not see the situation in the same light, and I can't say that I blame her, not with Andrea being one of the people we're about to lose. If it was Shane I would do everything in my power to bring him back to us. I'm trying to talk sense in to her but the idiot I'm in love with won't stop talking over me, resulting in Amy calling him a son of a bitch before storming off.  
Granted, he could have handled the situation better, and it would have hurt my heart a lot less had he looked to me instead of Lori for confirmation that he was doing the right thing.  
Shane nods, sending after Amy, trailing after her dramatic huff and I'm left there, dazed, squeezing Shane's arm, playing the roll of supportive girlfriend. A roll which, sadly, doesn't seem to be keeping his attention the way it used to.  
I'm beginning to wonder if our relationship is going to be yet another thing brought to a screeching halt courtesy of the dead walking when it begins to rain, capping off a perfect afternoon.


	11. Shake It Off

The afternoon soon cleared up and turned beautiful once more, the rain little more than a temper-mental cloud burst, relieving some of the heat and humidity that had gathered, cooling the air. I've actually shrugged into one of Shane's flannel shirts over my cutoffs and climbed atop the RV to sit with Dale, (who has given up on tinkering with the RV) while he keeps watch.  
From my perch I can see Lori, Carl, and Shane sitting around one of our many firepits, Shane talking animatedly telling some story.  
I can't hear a word that's being said but just seeing them like that resembling a family unit is enough to make me feel meloncholy, something that Dale notices almost immediately. "You doing okay there, Savannah?"  
I nod past the absurd lump in my throat. "Want to talk about it?"  
I take a deep breath and exhale, slowly. Then, I blurt,  
"I wish I didn't feel like I have to work so hard to keep Shane sometimes."  
Surprised at myself, I swipe at my face furtively where a number of traitorous tears have fallen.  
Dale does not, I note, rush in to reassure me. So I wasn't imagining this, or at least not quite.  
I wasn't sure if that was comforting or not.  
Maybe I can shrug it off, blame the outburst on PMS, I'm hoping, already trying to forget that this conversation even happened.  
Before I can speak and humiliate myself further a car alarm begins to sound in the distance, snapping everyone to attention.  
I shoot to my feet, heedless of the fact that my balance is precarious at best to catch a glimpse of a wailing red sports car coming our way.  
I can't help myself-I laugh. Even more so when Glenn pops out like some manic jack in the box.  
He just looks so pleased with himself that it makes me smile.  
I take my time descending and approaching the group, who's already either playing a rapid-fire game of 20 questions or arguing, making make my way over just as a moving van pulls up, spilling out the rest of our people, sans Merle.  
Shane, in an unexpected move draws me to him, wrapping an arm around my waist. Maybe I'm being silly about him and Lori after all. Maybe Shane's just being-  
My thought abruptly go blank as I see the last passenger leave the van. It's him. Without thinking about it I reach over and grip Shane's hand, drawing his attention back to our Atlanta survivors. Our Atlanta survivors...and Rick.  
I can't believe it; talk about back from the dead.

xx

Something fundamental changes in Shane once Rick's returned, something he vehemently denies when I cautiously broach the subject.  
Everything's Fine, just Fine. He's worried about Daryl being a 'loose cannon', worried about the group going back into the city, but you'd never know that from listening to him talk. Sometimes it feels like we've fallen into the Grimes' old rut, not that it bothered Shane much.  
Shane could be as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be and he was digging his heels in on this one, refusing to fucking _speak_ which of course makes me nuts. It was to the point where he was volunteering for watch shifts and I was sleeping alone.  
Or, sleeping as best I could without that asshole lying next to me, worrying about him out there.  
Everyone was up by the time I rolled out of our tent a few mornings later, making me feel lazy-Carol was folding more laundry, Glenn was yelling about 'his' car being stripped down and I got busy using the last of our jugged reserves to wash up the breakfast dishes. Shane came roaring up in that old Jeep of his right after I'd started announcing to everyone that he was going off to get more water. I pointedly ignored him for as long as I could. "You wanna come?" Shane calls over anyway, his intent written clearly on his face making Rick laugh and making Lori stand up ramrod straight a disbelieving look on her face. "Savannah Jane?"  
I almost hate him for doing this to me, but not as much as I almost hate myself for playing along. I'm debating, close to turning him down, begging off and blaming the dishes when Andrea approaches me, nudging her hip to mine. "I've got these-you go help Shane."  
I snort. 'Help'. Still...he was in a good mood this morning and that was rapidly becoming all to rare. I glanced from Andrea to Lori, watching me intently waiting to see what I'd decide. The look on her face makes my mind up for me. _He's mine, bitch_, I think and climb into the passenger side before I can change my mind. Once I'm there, though, I find myself very nearly excited. For a moment it's all too easy to pretend it was like old days where we'd go for drives down the forgotten King County dirt roads and neck like teenagers, learning what made each other tick.  
"Come on, Walsh," I smile. "Let's go."

xx

He's flying down the trail towards the water much too fast and the wind is blowing my hair into my face. Incredibly, Shane has slipped a CD into the player and Skynyrd is serenading us. Simple Man. We barely make it around the curve and out of everyone's eyesight when he slows the Jeep down, taking one hand off of the wheel and placing it on my leg, making me laugh.  
"Why, officer Walsh, are you getting fresh with me?"  
This makes him smile, something I don't see often enough anymore and nods his head. "Yes ma'am, I am."  
"Well, in that case," I take his hand and place it higher (much higher) up making him jerk the steering wheel in surprise. Automatically, I reach over and help him correct it, simultaneously arching up into his hand. "Steady," I almost laugh, breathless, still steering.  
Shane's splitting his time between looking at me and the trail ahead and I catch him licking his lower lip as he resumes full command of the wheel and finally, finally, his hand starts to move. Yes, I think, the flat of his palm pressing into me. Spurned on by his actions, I skim my tank top over my head, leaving it to puddle in the floorboard beneath my feet.  
"Savannah," Shane tries to warn, but he's laughing and hell, so am I, almost to the creek now and wrestling with the button on my shorts to give him better access, which he immediately takes advantage of, his big hand sliding into my panties, making himself right at home.  
"What's the matter, Shane?"  
I tease, reaching over to take his cap off before tugging on his hair, leaning in to nuzzle his ear, pretending to be aloof to his prowess even as I lose my breath. "Afraid you'll rear-end somebody?"  
"Dammit, Savannah Jane," he laughs, exasperated with me and I bite at his ear, tugging on the lobe playfully. _Mine_, I think again.  
I'm about to tease him some more but he beats me to the punch touching me in what he knows good and well is the exact place to make me shut up, make the whole world go away. "Oh, babe," I gasp, rapidly losing myself to him and he applies pressure and friction.  
I place a hand on top of his, just to feel him move, to feel his hands making me come, my hips rolling to his rhythm for more and gasping his name. When I open my eyes again, once more aware of my surroundings, breath heaving the Jeep is stopped and we're parked at the quarry, Shane sitting next to me looking very smug and satisfied with his abilities. I have no idea how long we'd been sitting there, and didn't care, either. I felt happy and light for the first time in ages volunteering to help Shane full the water jugs.  
His hand moves from my navel where it had been lingering to my breast, mostly visible in my demi-cup bra and smiles at me, grazing the tops gently, making me shiver. "Darlin' you seem to have a pretty good handle on jugs, so sure, why not."  
Pretending to be mad at him for ruining the moment, I swat at his hand, the one that had just made me so happy, the one attached to the man I love for good or il, then bite the knuckle on his index finger. "Shut up."  
Shane laughs, a genuine, deep-from-the-belly affair and hearing that sound is almost as good as my orgasm had been. God, I loved him.  
"You got it."


	12. Cold and All Alone

A/N: Meowmothatrucka-funny you should say that. This story originally ended with Rick/Savannah together and Shane completely out of the picture (it doesn't now). I didn't like writing Shane as the bad guy per-se so that's out, but I have been working on a Rick Grimes fic, so if you want Rick smut you'll have it soon, babe:) xx

"Shane, are you going to talk to me?"  
I ask once we've gotten most of the water jugs filled and loaded into the back of the Jeep.  
It had been on the tip of my tongue since we'd arrived, but I was too nervous to force the words out of my mouth, not at all anxious to ruin my pleasant glow. We're taking a break, my tank top still in his floorboard in deference to the heat and he pointedly looks at my semi-exposed chest instead of my eyes. "Don't know what you're talkin' about, Savannah,"  
Like hell he didn't. Abruptly, I'm infuiated-with Shane, with his bullshit answer, with the whole damn world falling to pieces around us.  
Needing to get away from him I strip my sneakers off and wade into the cool water up to my shins. It's beautiful out here, deep blue and secluded. I'd have liked to come here under different circumstances. Shit, I'd like to be there under different circumstances _now_.  
After taking a breath and a moment to myself I whirl back around to face him, the water splashing around my legs, strong from running all these months. "I'm 'talkin' about' how weird you've been acting lately,"  
I challenge Shane, eyes blazing. "About how disinterested in me you've been-"  
I anticipate Shane's interruption here and head it off at the pass. "Today's extracurricular activities notwithstanding. How..."  
Here, I falter, almost losing my nerve, almost backing off.  
"about how Rick's still alive. About why you lied to everyone. That's what I'm 'talkin' about', Shane."  
Why he lied to Lori is the only question I deliberately leave unasked, terrified on the answer he might give me if he's feeling honest.  
"You've been acting like you can't stand me and I just don't know what to do. Tell me what to do, Shane."  
I blurt finally ending my monologue instead of fully speaking my mind. Then I turn back to face the horizon instead of Shane, bending over to splash water in my face, on my chest, careful not to get any in my mouth.  
"I love you, still." I say, back turned, hands on my knees. It's the only way I have the courage.  
"So much. And I just don't know what to do." I repeat, voice cracking as I peter out, taking big gulps of the fresh air to keep from crying.  
Shane, in an unexpected move, wades into the water until he's standing behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, coaxing me to come out of my hunched-over position, to stand up straight.  
"Savannah, I love you, too." He tells me as we both look out at the water.  
"You know I do. It's just been hard on me lately, that's all."  
He's avoiding the important questions, but I stay quiet, interesting in what he has to say anyhow.  
"Been hard on everyone. But see, these people-these people need a leader, Savannah, someone they can look up to and I've been trying to be that for them. But now..." Now Rick's back. And he's stepped up. "I'm sorry, baby," Shane says. "I'm trying here. I am."  
"Okay," I say. This is the first time in our relationship that I don't rush in after a fight, falling all over myself to reassure Shane.  
"You know he put down Leon Basset?"  
Shane asks, out of nowhere, sounding distracted. "Bastard still has my jumper cables. Had, anyhow."  
I slap a hand over my mouth at this to quell a burst of inappropriate and feel Shane's chest rumbling behind me with it.  
Then, he leans down kissing the crest of my shoulder, soothing me.  
"It's gonna be okay. We're gonna get back to normal, girl." Shane releases me and I let his promise pass without any comment.  
The fact is, none of us know what normal even is anymore. "C'mon," He turns back towards the shore, regular gruff Shane again,  
"Let's get this water back to camp."


	13. Between Love and Hate

A/N: Best Buy Seasons turn on you PM, or send me one so we can chat about your review, which was lovely by the way! It means so much to me to see people invested in this story so thank you thank you. Also, this was posted in a rush (I'm running so late right now) so forgive any typos until I can correct it. Longer update on Saturday, whatever whatever whatever xx

We pull back up to the camp in a reasonably companionable silence-Skynyrd has been nixed, but Shane is holding my hand, so I'd call it a draw. Everything feels different, okay again. We'd needed to clear the air, was all. Shane drops my hand as soon as we've arrived back at camp and shuts the ignition off, bolting out of the Jeep, hitching up that stupid belt of his that I used to love to tease him about as he went. He's lost a bit of weight since this all began if he has to hitch it like that and for some reason it makes me sad to note this. "Just a reminder-boil before use."  
He yells as I climb out behind him on the drivers side, wanting to stay close. Feeling clingly, quite frankly. The words have no sooner left his mouth than duel high-pitched screams erupt from the woods nearby, sending us all into over drive.  
"Stay here," Shane bites off before leaving me behind, his shotgun at the ready. Andrea's approached the Jeep and I reach over, heart-racing, to squeeze her hand. "Should we unload the water?"  
I shake my head, droplets of water from the ends of my hair, remnants of our run, flying off. It's nice that her first instinct is to be helpful, but unloading the water wasn't the way to go about it. "They stay here in case we have to pick up and take off. We may not have time to grab anything, and everyone needs water, so why risk it, right?"  
Before Andrea can respond, Amy burst out of the RV in a dead run.  
"What happened?" She's gasping by the time she reaches us.  
"I was in the bathroom and I heard screams,"  
Andrea and I look a each other before shrugging or shaking our heads. Neither one of us has any idea.  
It is at this point that Amy makes an executive decision, deeming our lack of knowledge unacceptable and heads off after the men.  
For once, the two of us tag along after her, following the noise into a clearing, staying in sight of but well back from the walker.  
"Dammit, Savannah Jane!"  
I wince as Shane's voice cuts through the still air. He's pissed.  
"I thought I told you-" All at once, the air's not still anymore and everyone freezes in place our eyes trained to the rustling bushes.  
I can't speak for anyone else, but personally, I'm thinking something along the lines of 'What now?' when the younger Dixon steps forward. Everyone breathes a little easier at the sight of him, a first I think.  
He's a pain in the ass, but we're glad he's back, squirrel cuisine, and all. The situation is clearly under control once Daryl sends a bolt into the geek's head so Andrea, Amy and I begin our way back, the boys (And Lori, and the kids, all of whom seem safe) dragging along behind us.  
Daryl's spouting his normal insensitive shit already so I count it as a near-miracle that we all make it back to camp before the subject of Merle comes up and of course, a full scale confrontation breaks out.  
I'm careful to stay out of the way, more or less shying behind Glenn as first our furry dinner and then the fists start flying.  
I flinch as Shane involves himself in this, practically choking Dixon out once he's gotten him onto the ground. Daryl's yelling at him that particular move is illegal and Shane tells him to file a complaint and I bite my lip, hard, to keep from laughing out loud, although I have to admit, watching my man take someone down like that, even someone I'm partially fond of...it's pretty hot, a fact I'm careful to keep to myself until I've seperated from Glenn and Shane comes over, checking that I'm okay, scolding me for leaving the camp. He smiles for a second when I blurt out what I'm thinking, letting my 'disobedience' roll.  
"Later," Shane promises and then goes off to have his discussion with Rick.


	14. Think Twice

A/N: There is a lot of sex in this story, something I didn't quite realize until I began posting chapters on the internet. I haven't received any complaints though, so okay.

Practically everyone left at the camp has gathered back at the quarry by late afternoon, the women washing clothes with vintage-style boards found in a music store, intended to be used as instruments.  
Shane, thinking he's being funny, has scrawled the word _'Maytag'_ in big block letters across the top of each one using permanent marker, something that Jacqui found not in the least bit humorous.  
Or anything else about laundry duty, actually, and I can see her point-Ed and Shane aren't too far from our makeshift laundry mat, hovering menacingly and gigging frogs with an adolescent boy, respectively.  
It would almost be entertaining, but the heat keeps it from getting there. Carol and Andrea are talking about the old world on either side of me when Shane falls into the clear water, splashing it everywhere-he looks like something out of a Chevy Chase movie. Carl practically doubles over with laughter, near falling in himself and Carol interrupts Andrea mid-sentence about a vibrator. "Is he alright?"  
"He's fine," I smile, "He's just an idiot."  
This causes a small ripple of laughter among the women before things go quiet for a moment. In our conversation, anyhow-there is still laughing and carrying on not so far away. The pseudo-quiet doesn't last long. "Me too," Carol says out of the blue, responding, apparently, to Andrea's vibrator diatribe. Once we realize this we all break up into full scale laughter which brings Ed lumbering over wanting to know 'Just what the hell was so funny,'. And what were we going to say to that? Your wife's collection of sex toys? I don't think so.  
Andrea tells him it's just war stories a clear lie, but actually gets offended when he doesn't believe her, rising to her feet to challenge the man something that causes an immediate domino effect on the rest of us.  
"Here we go..." I mutter under my breath, trying to watch two situations at once; Andrea vs Ed and Lori, down river collecting Carl.  
"Why the fuck isn't she helping wash clothes?!" I ask, not that anyone notices as the argument on our side intensifies.  
I take my eyes away from the other situation entirely once Lori's walking away, dragging Carl with her and I focus my attention back on the drama at hand, which has Ed whipping a wet shirt at Andrea and calling her a cooze. A college-educated cooze, but still.  
I hadn't been paying enough attention to know just how things had spiraled quite so out of control so quickly, had been pissed that Lori had dragged her ass down here among the peasants and still got out of working, but I knew it needed to be stopped before it could go any further. "Look, guys," Stupidly, I insinuate myself between the two of them, hoping to be the voice of reason here, if such a thing could be said to exist anymore. This is my first mistake of the day.  
Jacqui is saying something behind me-yelling, really-about the bruises that keep popping up on Carol and I turn towards Jac, rotating the top half of my body in her direction but keeping my feet planted and this proves to be my second mistake of the afternoon because the next thing I know, I'm landing hard on my ass as Ed knocks me callously out of his way.  
My hands fly out behind myself instinctively, trying to break the fall resulting in sliced up palms from the gravel for my trouble.  
Before I can even process what's happened Ed's meaty face is connecting with Carol's delicate cheekbone. I scramble to my feet, heedless of the large drops of blood I'm shedding everywhere as I move and take exactly one step towards before Shane is there all white-hot fury going after Ed with vengeance.  
I'm rooted to the spot as Shane wails on him. It's Amy, calling for Shane to stop that snaps me out of my shock and I go after the love of my life, reluctant as hell. I may not want to, but at this point, with how far gone Shane is all of his rage and frustration being taken out on Ed's face, I'm unfortunately the one he's most likely to listen to, and even then my chances of succeeding in getting him to stop are minimal.  
Recklessly, I grab his arm on a back swing and plant my feet-it doesn't stop the blow entirely, but it slows him down some.  
"Shane," I'm trying to keep my voice calm, hoping this will infiltrate his haze during his second take down of the day, but unfortunately his name is just lost in the shuffle of hysterical women.  
"SHANE." I scream, and this he hears, shaking his arm loose to grip Ed's face, grip instead of punch, thankfully.  
"You put your hands on my wife, your wife, your little girl or anybody else in this fuckin' camp one more time Savannah will not be here to stop me, you understand?_ I will not stop next time._ Do you hear me?"  
I grab Shane's arm again, anchoring him and this time he lets me, at least for the moment. "I'll beat you to death, Ed,"  
And then Shane's pulling away, hitting him again. I do my best to dive back in and haul Shane to his feet, and he complies but reaches out, kicking Ed one more time for good measure before taking a step back. Once's he's stepped back I maneuver to stand in front of him as quickly as I can manage, both palms pressed flat against his chest, leaving gory hand prints that our Maytags will never in a million years wash out, using Shane's momentum to push him backwards away from the scene in front of us.  
His boots are practically in the water when he seems to come back to us a little, the terrifying blank look leaving his eyes at last.  
"Baby," I'm trying hard to form sentences here, but this one word is all that wants to leave my mouth. "Baby, it's okay, baby,"  
I finally choke out while everyone else stands by completely horrified at but riveted to the two messes of couples in front of them.  
What a spectacle. "Savannah," Shane says as things start to slow back down a bit. I feel my cuts and bruises anew and how the back of my thighs have been skinned, how it hurts. Just to end the afternoon on a high note, I begin to cry.

xx

"Come on," I tell him finally, catching his hand in mine.  
"Let's get you cleaned up." Shane seems incredulous at this, sputtering out my name. "Me?! Savvy, you-"  
I steam roll right over him, talking loudly and pulling on his hands. "We're going back to camp." I announce to no one in particular.  
I'm not sure that any of them hear this, but in any case, no one stops us from leaving. The scene at the quarry had gone from peaceful to hostile to awkward far too quickly for any of the people gathered to actively worry about wherever it was I would be taking off to.  
I can't tell if it's me or Shane that's shaking, our hands are welded together so tightly as we make our way back up the rudimentary path.  
I stop somewhere around halfway up, out of both the camp and the quarry's sight line and turn to face him, holding his hands up, taking stock of his injuries. His knuckles are raw, but he's okay, we're both fundamentally okay and I'm grateful to note that none of the blood that's splattered on him is his own. Shane opens his mouth to say God only knows what when the SUV ascends over the crest, Andrea behind the wheel and we take pains to first step out of their way and then wave them along-we'd be up in a bit.  
"That scared the shit out of me." I admit, and Shane raises his eyebrows inquisitively.  
"The car? They had plenty of time to stop, Savannah, they wouldn't have hit us-"  
I sigh. "No, stupid." This is not said without affection. "Ed."  
Shane takes my hands, turning them palm up and examines the shallow cuts (which have stopped leaking) before he speaks.  
"Savannah, I promise you, that won't ever gonna happen again. Okay?  
Ain't nobody gonna touch you but me, and I ain't ever gonna lay a hand on you that don't make you happy."  
A mischievous glint comes into Shane's eye before he continues.  
"I won't say I won't ever hit you, though. I know how much you like to be spanked."  
This actually surprises a laugh out of me-I've never been spanked in my life, not even when I brought home all D's in the fourth grade.  
I push at his chest, lightly. "Would you shut up?"  
This all occurs with an unexpected flirty quality and his smile softens a little around the corners even as his eyes darken, reminding me that adrenaline is a funny thing. "How you gonna make me?"  
My breath catches at his challenge and the implications, his scuffed up hand reaching up to brush over my face. "Savannah Jane?"  
I'm fuzzy on who moved toward the other: all I know is that I ended up in his arms flat seconds later, his mouth practically devouring mine, one hand going straight to cup my breast and one to my waist pulling me me more flush against him, situating me just the way he wanted.  
I honestly didn't care-all I knew was that I wanted him and it didn't matter how. Our stagnation over the past few weeks, combined with our playing that morning and the hellacious turn the afternoon had taken had built up until I was practically clawing at Shane, right there on the trail, lightheaded with need, feeling like I had just run a mile and then climbed onto a roller coaster straight after.  
His mouth leaves mine just long enough to drag the two of us deeper into the overgrown woods on the trails side. Later, in hind-sight I'll be thankful for this, if worried about poison ivy but at the time, it's a non-issue; I probably would have fucked him in front of the entire camp before I put a halt to this.  
Thankfully, Shane hasn't gone completely out of his mind with lust (yet) and tucks us out of sight before we can continue pawing at each other. His damn clothes are wet and stuck to his skin making his shirt practically impossible to pull up and over his head, much to my frustration. I'm greedily touching him through his pants while he handles the shirt situation. His pants which, thankfully, prove easier to remove as I yank them down, the boxer-briefs underneath coming with them, his belt falling to the forest floor with a muffled clank.  
He has my tank top back off in one smooth motion and kneels before me, licking my stomach, my navel, and downwards still, pulling my shorts and panties roughly to pool at my ankles where they'll both stay until I rid myself out of my bra and step out of them.  
Shaking already, I tangle my hands in his thick hair and Shane responds by reaching up, touching me as his mouth moves. It's bare moments before he has me crying out for him the second time in the day, and Shane stands, his own hands shaking before I can fully come back down, spinning me around clumsily to clutch at the trunk of the tree I had been leaned against, my sweaty palms bracing my weight, reopening the wounds before Shane thinks to slide his hand under mine, saving me from any further discomfort.  
"My turn," he tells me, voice rough and then he's inside me and I'm clawing at the back of his hand, his neck, anywhere I can reach as he positions himself. All I can say is to ask him 'Please, please, please,' as he begins to rock, mindless, chanting it with every move he makes as he takes me closer to the edge yet again because this,_ this_ is exactly what I needed.

xx

My legs are Jell-o by the time we make it back to the camp hours later as the sun goes down and Shane kisses me, a hearty smack before I retire to our tent for the night, skipping dinner, exhausted.  
He'll take first watch and join me soon, I think to myself and then immediately drift off to sleep.


	15. Wild Horses

The sun's up, barely by the time I emerge with bed head, wearing yesterday's dirty clothes.  
Shane winks and hands me a bottle of freshly boiled water which tastes as good as it sounds, but still it's the thought that counts.  
I accept this gratefully and Shane follows me to the RV steps where I plop down on the very top, half inside.  
I'm mostly still asleep and I flush with pleasure when Shane sits down on the stair in front of me, leaning against my bare legs and squeezing my calf affectionately before going back to his business of sharpening his knife. One of his knives, anyway.  
I touch the back of his neck, careful not to make any sudden moves that might startle him, lest he accidentally lop a digit off.  
"You called me your wife." This is said so quietly, and so long after the fact that I wonder if I should repeat myself.  
"At the quarry, I mean," I elaborate instead, waiting. And waiting.  
I can't see Shane's face from my seat behind him, but I hope he's smiling. "Yeah, I know."  
It strikes me all at once how odd this is, sitting here with Shane Walsh, knowing his faults and head over heels anyway. If Rick hadn't been shot, if the geeks hadn't begun walking around we'd live in the same world as before, sure, but Shane and I wouldn't have stayed together, of this I was sure; we would have dissolved without the glue of trauma bonding us together. Shane, God love him, would have moved right onto the next girl because that's just who he was then, and I'd still be in King County, single and flinching whenever I saw a cop car, hoping it wasn't him. In a way, I supposed we were lucky-at least we were together.  
"Did it on purpose." Shane confirms, bringing me out of my deep thinking.  
"You want a ring? 'Cause I can ask Glenn-"  
"I love you, a lot." I tell him lamely, my voice thick, not letting him finish his sentence.  
I didn't need a ring. I needed him.  
"Let me tell you," Shane says and then our conversation is broken up by applause. For a moment, I'm so absorbed in what we had been saying that I think it's for us, sarcastic. Someone overhearing our conversation and razzing us a bit for our lovey-dovey ways. But then I come out of myself to see Amy and Andrea, the returning heroes (whom I hadn't even realized were missing) carrying our dinner and I join the cheering, nudging Shane playfully with my knee. "You should teach me how to fish." I see and feel his shoulders shaking.  
"Rather teach you how to gig frogs." I scoff openly at this, wise to his tricks.  
"Whatever-you just want to see me in a wet t-shirt." More shoulder shaking from him that I realize now is laughter.  
"Yep. Although, I'd like to see you in a lot less, especially after last night. You were on fire, girl,"  
"I don't want to alarm anyone," Dale announces, coming down from the top of the RV, worrying me for a second about how much of our exchange he had overheard. Dale's a sweet old man-I'd hate to traumatize him.  
"But we appear to have a problem with Jim."  
Jim, who had laid down the night before to catch some sleep roughly the same time as I had. I'd assumed he was still tucked away in his tent, snoozing, just as I hadn't realized the sisters were missing. Shows what I know.  
"He's digging, has been for hours and it's getting hot already. Unresponsive, won't talk...it's eerie."  
Shane stands, just like I knew he was going to, and I miss his proximity immediately.  
"See, if Rick were here, he could help handle this."  
He points out to the group at large, catching Lori's attention.  
Lori who takes a hard look at Shane for the first time all morning before changing the subject entirely.  
"Where'd you get those scratches from, Shane?"  
I feel heat rush to my face but I'm unsure if I'm more angry or humiliated by this, being called out.  
The scratches on his neck, the backs of his hands were all from our foray into the woods, not that he would admit such a thing.  
"Lori." Shane warns, rubbing the back of his head while I sit there dumbly, watching this unfold.  
"Just a question." She presses. "They aren't from the walker yesterday morning, are they?"  
Shane looks disgusted. "Now, you know they aren't."  
"Then where?"  
I stand-I've had quite enough of this. "Me." I declare, loudly. "They came from me, not that it's any of your damn business. We have a real problem here, in case you all didn't hear Dale. Now, you can stand there gapin' at me all you want, Lori, but me, I'm going to check on Jim."  
As far as getting the last word is concerned, I think this one's pretty impressive.


	16. Simple Kind Of Life

Jim's digging graves, that much is abundantly clear, and no matter how much Shane jokes about digging to China and we all stay tense, even the children. I hate today already.  
"What the hell, people?" Jim explodes, looking worse than ever. He looks, in fact, like a strong gust of wind could knock him over.  
"I'm out here by myself, why don't y'all just go back to camp?"  
"We think you need a break," Shane reasons. "Need to step back and take a breath there, bud." It's interesting, seeing the cop in Shane emerge under stress. "Babe, he may have a point," I try. "I mean we-"  
"All of us." Shane asserts, ignoring me and begins trying to lever the shovel away from Jim. "All of us are worried about you."  
Incredibly, Jim's not only a lot stronger than he looks at the moment, he's laughing as well.  
"What, you gonna beat my face in like Ed's if I don't cooperate?"  
"Okay," I announce, stiffening my spine as I take Carl and Sophia's hands in mine. "That's enough. Back to camp." No one pays this any mind as I lead them back down to our tents, our tiny untouched version of civilization. "Carl, why don't you find us a rock? A sharp one."  
The boy goes unquestioningly as Sophia settles down next to one of the fire pits Morales has been talking about building up.  
Carl's back quickly, not that I'd let him leave my sight, and holding a rock up for inspection-"How's this?"  
I smile down at him and can't resist ruffling his hair. "It's perfect, kiddo. You know how to play tic tac toe?"  
Carl scoffs. "Of course I do, I'm in fifth grade. Sophia?" Sophia nods and we sit down on the ground taking turns drawing a grid with the rock, filling it with x's and o's and erasing our games by rubbing the flat of our palms in the dirt to start again.  
Sophia creams the both of us unmercifully while the drama unfolds uphill.

Eventually, Lori and Carol come back down to us, Lori shooting me a thinly veiled disgusted glare.  
"We've got it from here, thank you." She bites off, and for a moment I'm confused until she pulls Carl close to her while he tries to squirm away. Oh. The children, right. I'd thought that I was just doing my part to help but had apparently over-stepped some imaginary boundaries. "_Mom,_" Carl protest, shrugging her thin arm off of his shoulders. "I like when Aunt Savannah watches us."  
My eyes go wide at this as Lori's face practically turns purple with suppressed rage.  
"She is not your aunt." Practically taking the poor kids head off.  
"But Uncle Shane called her his wife!" Wow, either word travels fast or someone in the fifth grade had been eavesdropping.  
"He did WHAT?" Lori answers, close to shrieking.  
"Shane needs water for Jim." Carol, soft-spoken as always, interrupts as if she doesn't hear any of this and I'm more than happy to play along. "Coming right up." Shane's taking care of Jim properly by the time I get up there, but he still rises to greet me like a gentleman, taking the heavy water bucket from my arms. "You okay?" I ask, flicking a stray hair from my face.  
"Shit," Shane looks abashed "This is like a drunk n' disorderly all over again. 'S like ridin' a bicycle."  
I smile and Shane takes his time going back to Jim, doling out water.  
"Thank you, Savannah," Jim calls, polite as ever and I cautiously move toward the men.  
"You're welcome, Jim. How you feeling?"  
"Good." Jim nods, either to me or himself, I'm not sure and it doesn't really matter, anyway. "Better. Shane, could you pour it over my head?" And Shane, without a moments hesitation does.

After a careful hushed discussion, I've talked Shane around to agreeing that bringing Jim back to camp is the best thing for everyone. He'd truss Jim up there for the remainder of the afternoon, where at least he'd be with everyone. Maybe that would help him get back to normal, or so I'd thought. Instead, as soon as he's settled in Jim immediately starts a Rick love-fest and while, yes, Rick is a great man, I can feel the resentment rolling off of Shane in waves. And really, can I blame him?  
Or disagree with what he's sure to be thinking? Rick hadn't been the one to talk Jim down off the ledge, to handle our little crisis; that was Shane. And while I was personally of the train of thought that it doesn't matter who does something as long as it gets done, my husband isn't. He hides it well, though, to a casual observer, at least, rubbing his hands together with false glee, taking me back to the night Lori had made fun of my name in the old world...maybe his anxiousness to eat dinner that night had been fake, too?  
"Awright, who wants to help me clean the fish? Kids?"  
Carl and Sophia are up like a flash, clambering around Shane, excited not only to help out, but to participate in something gross.  
"What about you, Savannah Jane?" Shane challenges, bringing me out of myself. "While I'm teaching the kids, you might as well learn a thing or two yourself." I roll my eyes openly, but follow after the trio.  
"Oh please, Walsh. Like I wasn't a chef before all this went down."  
Shane snorts his disbelief. "You worked at Catfish Kitchen the simmer of your senior year of high school. I know this story, remember?"  
He knew all of my stories, it sometimes seemed. And yet, he stuck by me. I wave him off as he hands me one of his boning knives, the challenge still dancing in his eyes. "Semantics." This makes Shane laugh, loudly.  
"It's really not. Okay, they've already been scaled, so this is what we're gonna do, Van,"  
I ignore him, slitting open the belly in a crooked line like I'd done this before, chopping the head and tail off in quick motions.  
I had never touched a dead fish in my life, but I'd read a lot, enough anyhow to know what I was doing even if it wasn't exactly perfect. Shane looks impressed. Even better, he looks proud.  
"Just like that. Now, Carl, you scoop out the guts." Shane instructs, sliding the carcass to the next in our assembly line. I note with dim amusement that Shane hasn't actually done any of the grunt work yet. Miraculously, Carl obeys Shane without pause, mostly because it's Shane whom he adores. Sophia, not wanting to be out-done, makes Shane join in (finally) chopping his own fish and sliding it to her so she can try gut-scooping for herself. Carl's yelling and carrying on about how gross it is, clearly delighted, but I'm keeping my eye on Sophie.  
She grimaces at first, but damned if she doesn't get the job done.  
I feel a smile breaking out over my face, proud of her, wondering if this is how Shane felt seeing me chop off that head.  
I hope so-it's a good feeling. "Good girl, Sophia!" I cheer, making her blush furiously.  
Not wishing to make her uncomfortable, I turn back to Shane-"If I made some breading for these, do you think we could make it stick without egg?" I'm half-serious and Shane indulges me by pretending to think this over.  
"I don't know, hon, but I could always go out and catch a chicken for you, see if it lays some. Or run to the store and buy you a carton, at the very least." Idiot. Both kids giggle wildly at this and it feels to me like I'm getting a glimpse of Shane and I's future, God willing.  
Sitting here with kids, making dinner. It's nice.  
And it just goes to show that you can make your own family, and your own happiness no matter where you are.  
Even if you're surrounded by guts.


	17. Hard To Love You

This chapter made me emotional-I cried during this episode, hard.

I haven't been so good about replying to your wonderful comments/subs/etc but they mean the world to me-knowing that this is making someone happy makes me extatic and I can't tell you how much you all make my day xx

The fish fry is just right, just what we needed.  
"I missed this," Jacqui sighs and I lift my coffee mug of beer smuggled in by Morales.  
"You're telling me," I'm tucked into Shane's side as we eat (and drink) our fill, him teasing me about breading the fish while everyone else begins to wax philosophical about time-I'd been unable to make the breading stick to the fish, a bitter disappointment but Shane is making me laugh about it now rendering it worth the fight. Time, even as they discuss it is suspended briefly there in the fire light something I'll look back on in near wonder. "I have to pee!" I glance over at Amy the loudmouth, still smiling.  
She's stood up and is looking down at her older sister with bemused exasperation.  
"Jeez, try and be discreet around here..." I leap up to spare my friend some embarrassment.  
"With you there, Aims."  
Actually, I had to pee anyhow, so this works in my favor.  
"You women," Shane laughs, "Always goin' in pairs."  
"Shut up," I nudge him then shove my plate into his hands, weary to lay it down next to the mug I've currently nestled in the dirt. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Lori watching us closely, something I pointedly ignore as I follow Amy into the RV, laughing full and loud when she emerges from the tiny bathroom, scowling. "We're out of toilet paper."  
I can't help my giggles-entertainment does not come easily these days. I reach over without comment and tear off a paper towel before taking my turn in the cubicle making her laugh in turn, smoothing out her features. "Classy, Van!"  
"Hey," I call through the accordion door to her, "At least I won't be the one rocking yellow jeans!"  
I miss her crossing her eyes at me childishly through the door before she heads back out to the group, already yelling.  
"We're out of toilet paper?" she repeats to everyone gathered, breaking me up all over again. It's the put-upon tone she's adopted, as if this were the worst thing that had happened since corpses became animated. Maybe it was, but I still found this entire thing way amusing. Blame it on the beer, or the campfire, or my newlywed status; I was happy. Still laughing, I open my mouth to call out something smart-ass to her when Amy begins to scream, choking the laughter in my throat.  
I fly out of the bathroom towards the sound, belt unbuckled and there they are. Walkers, everywhere.  
"Savannah, stay put!" Shane yells, lifting his shotgun as I fall to my knees over Amy, who has been bitten. "Oh no, Amy, I-what can I do?"  
I'm babbling as Andrea reaches us, pushing me roughly out of her way, something I don't take personally at all. Her sister is dying.  
It's this harsh thought that helps bring everything into focus for me. Amy is pretty much dead already, having begun living on borrowed time the moment she'd been bit, and we can't lose anyone else tonight, not if we can help it. I stumble to my feet as Lori, Carol and Jess Morales reach the RV with the children, helping usher them inside, sequestering the kids into the back bedroom.  
"Everything's going to be fine,"  
I lie to them as their Mothers scramble around, looking for first aid supplies as if Amy isn't already beyond such niceties. "You just keep this door shut nice and tight, okay? Until one of the adults tells you to come out." They nod at me, four solemn dirty faces aged beyond their years and I shut the flimsy door on them before going to see who else needed help while one of our own lay outside, bleeding out into the dirt. This feels like nothing but a highly realistic nightmare-everything was fine, close to perfect, five minutes ago-how could it have all gone to hell so quickly? We deserved a break, dammit.  
"Savannah, get everyone inside," Shane huffs, running past me breaking my reverie in a blur of khaki and I unthinkingly do as he says, reaching out to Jim, steadying him as he woozily climbs into the RV and I duck, hearing gunshots directly behind us. The cavalry has arrived, but far too late.  
All of the adults were loaded in the RV and I look to Shane, lost.  
I'm making a point of not looking anywhere else, at Amy beneath me.  
"What do I do now?" I ask miserably now that my task is complete. "How do I help?"  
One more shot's fired and before my question can be answered, it's over, all of the walkers have been put down, Lori and Carl, crying, all but flying towards Rick who has materialized out of nowhere.  
I'm doing my own weeping I realize as Shane pulls me close to him. I have my hands pressed tight over my face while he does his patented Shane Walsh shh'ing and I wonder how much more of this world I can bear, absolutely heartbroken. Have I mentioned I hate this? Hate today, hate all of it.

xx

Everyone, save for Andrea and Jim sleep piled into the RV, something that is just as cramped and uncomfortable as it sounds, but not at all unpleasant. I can't imagine the isolation of just Shane and I in a tent after such a night, especially after what's happened to Ed.  
I shudder to think of waking from a nap, or rousing from a pout to one of those creatures clawing at you. I purposely turn my mind away from this, thinking instead of Andrea outside, unable (or unwilling) to leave her sister's side, and Jim above us, keeping watch.  
The RV itself seems like a living thing, lying there in the dark while so many people around us talking in their sleep or snore or toss and turn, unable to get comfortable, the rocking from this similar to a big beast drawing a breath. There is a whispered conversation going on closer to the drivers alcove, but I can't make much of it out; I'm not even sure who's talking as I join the restless masses, rolling from my back onto my side, practically draping myself over Shane's lanky form in the process.  
The metal from his 22 charm is pressing into my cheek, freezing cold, just as I am, but thankfully Shane is as warm as always, warm and awake, judging by the way his arm tightens around my shoulders.  
"You okay?" I ask, barely even making my voice loud enough to be heard by the man lying next to me. Still, the other conversation halts for a moment as if whomever it was is foolishly surprised at not being the only ones awake. Shane waits for their discourse to pick back up before cupping the back of my head, answering me. "I keep thinkin'. 'Bout the woods, how I put you in danger like that. What if those walkers had gone west? Gotten here earlier? What if we'd run into them? I never shoulda gambled your life like that, Savannah, and I'm damn sorry."  
I'm dumbfounded, speechless. Of all the things he could have said, this was not what I was expecting.  
"But they didn't. You didn't," I tell him, groping blindly in the near pitch blackness to touch Shane's face with affection. "All of this is hypothetical, right? But the fact is, the woods saved us and I don't regret it for a second." Shane fetches a sigh deep in his chest, my head rising and falling with it before speaking next and breaking my heart. "I do."  
Even worse, when I roll back away from him, he lets me. Doesn't make a single move to bring me back into his warmth and I fall asleep untouched and crying as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, for everything I had lost so far and would surely continue to lose in the upcoming days.

xx

Everyone's up early the next morning, emerging from our glorified sardine can, more or less intact, eager to begin (and end) the worst day we'd ever had as a group, the morale at a new low.  
Andrea's still sitting with Amy, an area I flatly refuse to go anywhere near, almost ashamed when Lori is brave enough to do what I am not. I know I'm being a coward, but can't bring myself to care.  
I can't face Andrea or Shane this morning, it seems, both for different but equally valid reasons.  
So I settle on going to Glenn and Daryl who have been working for a while re-building our fire pit and disposing of the walkers. I don't know what else to do. "Can I have a pair of gloves?"  
I ask, voice mostly rusty from the emotional night we'd all just endured. Glenn looks surprised, but hands me a pair of gardening gloves that dwarf my hands. I don't bother making conversation, just bend over and heft a set of skinny legs, helping Daryl heave yet another walker into oblivion. The stench is horrendous, but it's not anything I can change by complaining. We're on our third or fourth body, already I'm losing count, when Andrea interrupts us by pulling her gun on Rick.


	18. Turn To Black

"The dead girl's a time bomb!"  
Daryl is arguing, the three of us having migrated away from the dead-again walkers to check on Rick.  
"She has a name," I snap, and Daryl looks almost amused.  
"HAD a name, maybe."  
Glenn takes me by the upper arm, leading me away back to our dubious work before my anger can boil over and cause a scene.  
Even the dead are preferable to that redneck at this point in time, I reflect while he swaggers back over, acting as dumb as ever, dragging a breather with him. Ed. One of our own.  
"We don't burn the living," Glenn sputters out, clearly scandalized. "We bury them."  
"Don't look livin' to me." This is Glenn's snapping point. Glenn who, has remained stoic throughout the hellish past twelve hours begins to yell.  
"We bury them!"  
Even Daryl flinches at this, and moves to remedy his gaffe without further comment, Morales coming to help, doing his own yelling at Dixon as soon as they were out of ear shot. Glenn had saved my bacon once today already, and I find myself quick to hurry in and return the favor, soothe his frustration some. Keep him from going after the man with a weapons arsenal, in other words.  
"You ever get free pizzas?"  
"What?" Glenn whirls, looking at me like he thinks I've finally lost it.  
"When you were a delivery guy." I clarify, as if we're having a normal conversation in a strip mall or somewhere innocuous like that.  
"I had a boyfriend, before Shane? Who delivered pizza, and he got free food all the time. Of course, he got robbed a lot too, delivering to the wrong side of town, but..." Clearly, I'm rambling so it's okay that Glenn ignores me. "Daryl's such an asshole, man,"  
"Yeah...he is." I agree. Glenn may be insulting the other man, but at least he sounds more calm now.  
"You know he made me carry a severed hand in my bag?!" I'll admit, this elicit a double-take from me, something I thought didn't exist outside of slapstick comedies. "What, like a real one?" Glenn nods, morose. "Merle's."  
I actually shudder at this, the mental picture not at all helped by the chopped body parts surrounding us.  
What did Daryl think he was going to do, put the hand on ice and take Merle to the nearest ER?  
Jacqui begins yelling as our conversation tapers out (which is good, because I honestly can't come up with anything else to say to pizza boy) and the only word I can make out in her hysteric state is "bit". I stop, freezing reflexively in terror-I think everyone does.  
There's a long moment of confusion, everyone looking to the person nearest them, checking, asking.  
Jim. Jim's been bit. Idiotically, my first instinct is to go to him, stripping off my gloves and shoving them at Glenn and even as I'm panicking for my friend a large part of me is relieved (and almost ashamed at this relief) that it was anyone other than Shane.  
Jim leaves the group clustered in a loose circle just as Glenn and I approach, the argument clearly being what should we do with him.  
As if he were a danger to us, as if he wasn't still living. I clutch at this, taking a step away from the people gathered.  
"Savannah-" Rick begins, and I shake my head emphatically; this does not feel right to me.  
"I don't want any part of this, deciding a man's fate for him. It's wrong."  
Having said my piece, I walk away, Rick calling after me and Shane telling him in an utterly contemptuous voice to 'just let me go'. I make a point out of pretending not to have heard this, seeking Jim out.  
He's behind the RV, crouched down, looking miserable, like an animal caught in a trap.  
I crouch myself right in front of him and reach for his hand, flashing back to that day in the hospital with Lori.  
It feels like a lifetime ago-it might as well be. "We're gonna fix this, okay? We're gonna try and-"  
I actually have no idea what it is we're going to try, so I stop here. I'm thankful that this moment is soon interrupted, even if it is by Daryl, who is coming at us with a pickax.  
I shoot to my feet, stuck between fight-or-flight and then Shane's there, rushing to stand in front of me, placing himself bodily between Daryl's weapon and I. Between Shane and Rick, Daryl is flanked, and Rick has his gun out, clearly no match for a pickax.  
Daryl acquiesces, dropping the thing without a word, and Shane moves quickly, scooping the ax up with a grunt.

We have not exchanged a single word since the night before and I can feel a wedge forming between us, rapidly becoming a chasm. I'm desperate to keep us from falling into that gulf.  
"I can't believe you just jumped in front of me like that..are you nuts?"  
Jim sits, watching us, completely uninterested. Already his fever is soaring. "He had an ax, Shane!"  
Abruptly, Shane crosses our wedge, our chasm, our gulf in a few long strides, getting right in my face.  
"You listen to me, Savannah Jane-there's nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. Nothing."  
I'm dumbfounded, dragging him away from prying eyes as Carol comes to crouch with Jim, taking up my vigil.  
"But last night!" I protest hotly, as if there aren't more pressing matters unfolding around us.  
"I said that the woods saved us, and-"  
"It didn't." Shane insists, making my heart sink. "It didn't, though, Van. We didn't need saving. Still don't. As long as we have each other, everything's going to be just-fucking-fine, you got me?"  
This is said with so much ferocity that I can't help but nod, can't help but believe it, believe him.

xx

Seeing Amy turn that afternoon is surreal, the worst thing to ever happen in Andrea's life, playing out in real time for the group to see. Something she has to share with us on top of everything.  
I'm surprised to not find myself frozen, calling for Shane breathlessly as I approach. the sisters.  
I haven't heard my voice take on such a tone since the news first broke in KC.  
Shane and Rick are standing propped against Glenn's shell of a car and even though it's Shane I call for, the both of them snap to attention, the entire camp flinching when Andrea's gun goes off before any of us can reach her.  
Even when the dead began to walk I didn't know, never could have dreamed it would be this bad.  
Maybe I didn't know anything yet.

Hours later, we make our way up the familiar trail, exhausted, taking pains to stay behind and yet not look at the truck carrying the bodies. The men are stoic once we've reached the graves Jim has dug, lying there waiting to be filled, but the women-myself included-are crying their eyes out. To some extent, even though we don't know it at the time, we're all following the same train of thought; wondering how many more burials we'd have to endure, wondering who might be next.  
The atmosphere and worry and weariness are almost to much to bear and remain standing and I find myself clutching at the people on either side of me. Glenn's holding his baseball cap respectfully in one hand but allows me to hang on to his empty one, squeezing comfortingly.  
Shane doesn't move at all as I grip his bicep and it feels like a very long time before we all turn and head back to camp.

xx

"Savannah, hold up."  
Shane calls as we reach the outskirts of camp and I slow, letting him catch up to me.  
The rigidness that had prevailed at the graves melts away once everyone surrounding us has gone, his body relaxing as he draws me into his arms. At the familiarity of Shane, his touch, his smell same as ever I break completely, sobbing. God, but I was sick of crying.  
"I'm sorry," I choke out. "It's just, Amy, you know? It's_ Amy_."  
"I know." he adjusts his grip, holding me tighter, putting his hands in my hair. "Baby, I know it."  
After what feels like a long time but can't be more than twenty minutes, (the body can't withstand that kind of grief for extended periods of time, logically, I know this) the crying peters out and I keep still, my face pressed to his collarbone, catching my breath. I'd be lost without Shane. "Damn, girl," he teases lightly once I find myself steady. "You were on the verge of a real cryin' jag."  
Was that a Gone With The Wind reference? He would. It's watery, but he makes me laugh. No more tears, I vow, not if I can help it.  
I have to keep it together, do my part. "_You're_ a jag," I fire back softly as I pull away to swipe hastily at my eyes, wondering if I've ever looked worse than in these last few months, wondering if Shane misses seeing me in makeup, all put together.  
Personally, I think Shane looks great roughing it, but men can get away with things like that a lot easier than women can.  
"I love you, girl," My smile is more genuine now, even if it does remain small and precarious.  
"I love you. It's my turn to check on Jim, so I'd better..."  
Shane sighs, removes his cap to rub his head and looks at me sideways all in one movement.  
Clearly, he doesn't want me anywhere near Jim but doesn't say this, willing to let me make my own decisions instead of going Cro-Magnon, which would be so easy. "Be careful, okay? Take him some water."  
I nod, thankful that he isn't giving me a hard time, thankful that the both of us are even still standing here.  
"Will do."


	19. Hate To See You Go

Jim is most decidedly unwell by the time I emerge from the RV later in the afternoon, to find Morales and Jess loading up their car. This doesn't immediately strike me as odd-we're to be leaving soon, anyway.  
I mean, it's not like we can stay at the camp after all that's happened.  
The truth only sinks in once I notice the kids flitting around, hugging everyone, the adults crying anew; something was up. They were going to find their people, or try at least, Morales explains to me and I feel a pang at this-it's foreign to lose someone via a choice they've made.  
Among all of this craziness it's easy to overlook the concept of free will completely.  
I wish I could change their minds, or ensure safe travels, but all I can do is hug them and say 'I love you' and 'Goodbye'. Too many goodbye's just lately.  
The group dynamic shifts yet again as we watch the family pull away and I gnaw ceaselessly at my lower lip, trying to get a handle on my emotions before going to help Shane load up our Jeep.  
"Nothing's stable anymore, it seems." This leaves my mouth before I can think about it and Shane levels me with a fierce look, stopping me in my tracks as I watch him throwing tarps over everything-first canvas then plastic, making sure it's all secure and dry.  
"There are some thing, Savannah Jane," he murmurs as he works, "That will never change."  
I can't come up with a response to this, and thankfully, I don't have to-Shane winks at me before raising his voice. "Awright, everybody, let's load up."  
It irks me a little on Shane's behalf that everyone looks to Rick for confirmation.  
Rick who nods, just once and sends everyone scrurrying.  
Away we go.

xx

It's almost painful leaving the camp, abandoning the good memories we'd scrounged together, not to mention the graves, knowing we would never be back, that Andrea would never be able to visit her sister, or leave flowers, the least of which both Amy and Andrea deserved from this whole mess.  
We're three or four hours down the road (which is not to say we're very far from camp) as I muse over this, feet propped up on Shane's dash and I catch him in the corner of my eye yet again taking his battered ball cap off only to put it right back on. A bad habit, right up there with rubbing the back of his head-he was going to have a damned bald spot. I reach over without speaking and catch his hand, stilling him before he can do it again, kissing his wrist, feeling his pulse throb and the anxiousness practically vibrating through him.  
"Everything's gonna be okay, you know."  
I say apropos nothing and Shane smiles a little, crookedly, one of his dimples coming out.  
He begins to speak, something sarcastic if I know him, when the RV honks once before breaking down.  
I feel more myself, more together now that I've vowed to take up some of the slack in our relationship-Shane can't be expected to do it all. He squeezes my hand affectionately as we climb out of the car, going our separate ways, him to the front of the RV and me climbing inside of it to help Jacqui administer what meager first aid to Jim we can while the menfolk contemplate the hose.  
Meager or not, our first aid isn't doing Jim a bit of good-he's slipping, fast.  
I've hardly been in the back bedroom with him for five minutes before Jim's teeth begin to chatter and he's asking for Denna whom I'm almost positive is his late wife.  
"Just hang on, okay?" What else can I say to him?  
He blinks up at me, eyes clearing as he becomes lucid just for a moment and asks for Rick before abruptly going into convulsions. "Hold him!" Jacqui yells and I frantically grab his shoulders, trying to keep him from falling off the bed or hurting himself worse than he already had.  
Did people actually swallow their tongues? I wondered. Should I be worried about that, as well?  
"It's okay," Rick soothes, suddenly behind me, maneuvering to hold onto Jim himself as things begin to calm before finally, the man stills. I hadn't even noticed Jac leaving to retrieve Grimes.  
"Thank you, Savannah. You did a good job."  
I'm grateful for Rick's dismissal and hurry back out into the fresh air, purging my nostrils of the smells of stale sweat and vomit, a sick smell if ever there was one.  
Shane brushes past me to help his best friend, and I feel relieved-between the two of them I'm comfortable abandoning my candystriper duties be it as they were, standing in the sun with my arm around Jac's waist. Her and Carol had gone above and beyond for Jim and I was proud to know them, to count them as members of the group and as friends. The three of us look up, our attention caught as Rick and Shane exit the RV, Jim-who is practically unconscious at this point-propped between them as they walk by us without a word stopping at a live oak and depositing the sick man underneath it.  
I'm confused, but only for a brief moment-then, all at once, I get it;  
he wanted to be left alone to die and like it or not, we had to respect that.  
It was time to say another goodbye.  
I knew from the moment Jim's bite was revealed that we'd be losing him, but this...this felt different, somehow. Leaving his death (leaving him) open-ended felt like leaving a wound to fester, unable to heal.  
Closure didn't feel like an option, not really. However.  
However, we were able to make our peace before driving away, and that felt like enough, somehow.  
It felt like a grace.  
Not that I knew what to say...you never do, it seems until later when you're removed from the situation. Until it's too late, in other words. You'll never know at the right time, that's just the way it is. Not with your emotions going crazy..it's better to accept this and move on.  
So I kneel before Jim once more, fixing the collar on his shirt carefully, ever aware of the aching in his bones. "You're a good man." I tell him in a rush. "Thank you for everything."  
Jim smiles at me heart-breakingly sad and I quickly move on, making room for the next person in this dreadful procession.  
I find myself standing next to Andrea off to the side as Dale says whatever it is he feels he needs to.  
"He fought." Andrea speaks suddenly, startling me, jerking her chin towards Jim. She hadn't said much since Amy's turn and this was one hell of a place to start.  
"He fought so hard, even after he lost his family, and for what? To die, like this?" Andrea takes a shaky breath and for a moment I worry that she might break. "Amy and I had a dog when we were kids, you know? Or I did, I guess-Amy was too little to do anything with it. We couldn't find him one night and it turns out he went off in the woods next to our house to die. That's what this feels like, you know?"  
I don't answer-don't have an answer, much to Andrea's disgust. What she said has hit a nerve.  
"Headin' out," Rick calls quietly and I rush to the Jeep, claiming the drivers seat, eager for a distraction.  
Shane's tired and doesn't comment on this except to thank me as I adjust the seat, the mirror, taking one last look at Jim in the rear view before starting the engine.  
He looks peaceful and it's easier to move on knowing that we're helping to carry out his last wish, something that doesn't always happen, especially in this world.

xx

It's been hours of driving, and small talk and word games by the time we reach the CDC in Atlanta, night falling heavily around us like a blanket. The stench is horrendous, much worse than our earlier bonfire at camp and I'm breathing carefully through my mouth, determined not to throw up the precious food we'd scraped together.  
I simply can't afford it, can't afford to lose the calories or become incapacitated even for a moment.  
I feel as if this is something I'm learning the hard way over and over again: you never get used to dead bodies piled around you haphazardly, especially when one of them gets up and begins to shamble.  
The entire group is wishing they'd stayed in their vehicle or kept driving, myself included, revolted as Rick cheerleads us through it-stay together, keep moving, almost there.  
I keep my eyes firmly locked on Shane's broad back, following behind him.  
I'm tempted to clutch at his belt as well, desperate for contact but resist.  
He doesn't need the distraction, especially once we reach the CDC's main entrance, covered in protective metal, back literally against the wall as walkers are closing in on us from all sides.  
Shane shoves me roughly behind him before taking aim at on them corralling a near-hysterical Rick, who swears he'd seen movement indicating other survivors inside.  
Lori chimes in with a valid opinion for once; basically, we're fucked if we don't leave right this moment, hole up somewhere. If we don't move, we're dead. Being this far into the city at nightfall is a disaster.  
"Savannah," Shane begins, trying to do two things at once, check on me and help his friend.  
"I'm fine," I assure him. "I'm fine, get Rick."  
It's hard to see such a stoic person fall apart this way and I make a mental note to acquire a gun as soon as possible, assuming we get ourselves out of this mess. No more damsel-in-distress, no sir.  
"Back to the RV, guys," I urge, trying and failing to sound more calm than my frayed nerves actually are and miraculously, the group is listening, we're all going back the way we came when the big metal shutters begin to roll up, spilling unnatural fluorescent light out on us, a beautiful sight.  
I'll be damned, I think, getting the Peltier women in ahead of me, the cameras really did move.


	20. Love This Pain

We all rush in, bathed in light and A/C-it's as if we've died and gone to electric heaven, right in the middle of Atlanta.  
"Shut the doors!" Shane yells to those closest to him and I move to help automatically, pulling on the heavy metal.  
I'm beaming as I turn back to Shane, feeling elated. Then, I hear the unmistakable sound of a rifle being cocked and it dawns on me so crystal clear I wonder how I could have neglected the thought before-he could still make us leave. Whoever he was, he could be crazy, homicidal. Just because we made it inside doesn't necessarily mean we were safe. How foolish I had been to assume such a thing.  
Thankfully, he tells us right away that all we're required to do is submit to a blood test, which is simple enough.  
Still, I'm uneasy, even more so as I watch everything around us become closed off again, this time witnessed from the inside, a crazy sight.  
From the lobby we take an elevator down, rendering me uncomfortable all over again as everyone piles in-what's the weight limit on something like this? I think idly before realizing that almost half of the elevator's occupants are armed, and heavily and feel dumb for worrying about a mechanical glitch. Shane's standing behind me, leaning coolly against the wall, making me jump, startled, as he reaches out with one hand to hold my hip possessively.  
My alarm quickly gives way to comfort at his proximity-I honestly believe Shane would lay down and die before seeing any harm done to me.  
Sophia, even as she's held by her mother looks frightened beyond all measure and I catch the timid little girls eye, giving her a wink and a smile, watching her shoulders droop as she relaxes just a fraction, even more so as the elevator's doors slide open and this man-Jenner-leads us to his lab, explaining to us that he is it, the end of the line.  
I can't help but feel a little bit crushed as I mull this over, although I can't quite articulate why.  
I also can't help but pity Edwin, even as he directs me to a chair sticking a needle in my arm with absolutely no preamble.  
It must be unbelievably lonely to live that way, banging around such a big building by yourself. Eerie, too, like an episode of Twilight Zone.  
"Done." Jenner tells me, carefully labeling the syringe with my name and I bolt to my feet unthinkingly, sending everything into a sickening loop as my vision goes dark around the edges. I don't feel faint, exactly, but if Shane hadn't come to me the way he had, I definitely would have ended up sprawling on the freakishly-clean floor beneath us.  
"Easy, baby." Shane shh'shes, his own arm already drained and bandaged. "Breathe."  
I force a few deep breaths into my lungs and the room eventually stops swooping madly around.  
"She okay?" The mad scientist asks Shane, by-passing me completely which I could care less about at the moment.  
"Needs to eat." Jac tells him, interrupting. "Nothing a good meal can't fix."  
I'm not sure if she's fishing or what, but it works. "Oh, how rude of me-there's plenty of food. Follow me."  
With that one simple sentence, he's won the entire group over. And all it had cost him was a few thousand calories each.

xx

I've never been a big fan of wine, but this is different somehow.  
The wine Jenner's presented us with, although nothing fancy, is appreciated greatly and downed bottle after bottle during dinner while the men become boisterous intent on getting each other drunk while the women giggle and become nostalgic for everything from brie (Jac) to shitty dive bars (Me). The only one to remain unmoved by our good fortune is Shane who speaks up right in the middle of one of Dale's ongoing speeches. I'd scarcely been listening, but still, it seems rude of my husband.  
"When you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?"  
I reflexively kick Shane under the table as everyone goes quiet turning to Jenner expectantly. Shane ignores the kick entirely.  
Truthfully, I don't want to hear about it-we'd all lived through the nightmare so far, why not enjoy our reprieve? Why relive the past?  
"Shane, we're celebrating," Rick reprimands and I cringe as Shane sets his jaw, looking more determined for answers than ever.  
"We don't need to do this now." I agree but wisely keep my mouth shut, except to pour more wine down my throat.  
"People...opted out." I'm turned away from the conversation, but it's hard to miss this last bit, my gaze shifting to Carl who looks confused as he works out what it is Jenner's implying.  
"Every last one?" Shane presses and I throw a sharp glance at him.  
"Why are you doing this?"  
Shane has the nerve to look indignant that I even have to ask. "I just want answers, Savannah Jane." I shake my head at him, hoping he'll shut up, to no avail. "Don't we all?"  
Shane glances around the table, expecting a chorus of agreement, but is met by people turning away, studying the depths of their glasses and studiously avoid his gaze. I've stood in search of more booze when the silence is finally broken, by Glenn.  
"Dude," he sighs, "you are SUCH a buzz kill."  
I clink my near-empty glance to Glenn's as I make my way down the table, much to Shane's consternation, and agree, a resounding  
"Here, here,"


	21. SLB

A/N: Title/Song is Skinny Little Bitch but I'm not sure ff won't delete the chapter if I name it that

princesspenguin14 Don't worry, Shane and Savannah are pretty much endgame

april Thank you very much! It wasn't in the show so I'm proud of that bit:)

Best Buy Seasons That review made my day

Also, I'd like to warn everyone that we are entering the home stretch!  
The fic wraps up with Season 1 so I should be posting the final (!) chapter next weekend.  
It makes me incredibly sad to end this journey but the story has taken me as far as it can.  
Also, I will immidiately begin working on a sequel so look for that around June maybe? I adore ya'll xx

PS- These stories are all pre-written it's just a matter of typing and posting them and  
sometimes (such as this chapter) I can't believe some of the shit I write, it's so dirty. Jeez.

After dinner and drinks (and drinks, and drinks), Jenner provides us with a tour of the underground floor we're currently residing in of the Atlanta CDC, wrapping things up by showing us to the individual sleeping quarters where the lot of us have unceremoniously dumped our belongings.  
"Should we grab a cot?" I ask Shane, whose mood has improved a little now that he's familiarized himself with our surroundings, a holdover from his cop life. "We don't need-" he breaks off at the sound of Glenn's whooping.  
Glenn was right behind me the last I checked and I lean partially out of our doorway, curiosity piqued. "What? What now?"  
Glenn grabs my face with both hands, still whooping, his face flushed and drunk beyond all reason.  
"Hot water!" I share a look with Shane as he removes Glenn's hands from my person. "What the hell?"  
"Showers!" Glenn elaborates. "With hot water!"  
I feel my eyes go round. "You serious?!" Shane demands.  
"Go easy on the hot water," Jenner reprimands and I almost cry in relief. Hot water. A shower. This really is heaven.  
"Don't worry, Doc," Shane laughs, whooping himself now, bad mood forgotten. "Me'n Savannah'll shower together,"  
he pauses to wink at me, the jerk. "Conserve water."  
I want to be mad at or embarrassed by his display but I'm elated instead. "Shut up, Walsh."  
His eyes sparkle, no doubt remembering the last time I'd spoken those words to him not so long ago in the woods and what had followed. "Yes ma'am."

xx

Shane finds me twenty minutes later naked and already lathered up in the warm shower stall; I can't believe our luck.  
I can hear T-dog to my left, laughing delightedly and I'm close to joining him in his loud celebrations when I turn my back to the spray, finding my husband just beginning to slide into the shower, closing the door closed behind himself, clutching a bottle of whiskey in his free hand.  
"Can you see through these things?"  
I wonder, jerking my chin towards the frosted glass behind him-in my rush, I hadn't even thought to check. Shane shakes his head, chugging what appears to be Makers Mark, a sexy gleam in his eye. "Good. C'mere,"  
He doesn't need anymore of an invitation than this, striding cocksure into my slick open arms, holding the bottle up to my mouth and smiling approvingly as I take first one gulp and then another, the liquor burning my throat on its way down.  
As if he knows, Shane places sloppy kisses on my neck, groping for the shampoo shelf, knocking mini bottles off as he puts the bottle away, freeing his hands while tiny bars of soap rain down making me laugh into Shane's open mouth.  
"Think it's soundproof?" I tease, knowing full well that it isn't, not if I could hear Dog next door.  
"Guess I could always make you scream and find out,"  
This time when I laugh the sound isn't muffled by Shane's mouth bouncing off of the tiles surrounding us.  
"Oh, you think so, huh?"  
Shane nods, forehead to mine before catching my mouth again, gripping the backs of my thighs and sliding his hands up to my ass then around to possessively hold the more sensitive parts of my anatomy, driving my breath away.  
"You ready for me, Savannah Jane?"  
He knows damn well that I am, pulling me closer picking me up, pressing me against the wall close as he could possibly be without being inside of me, my hands lacing through his hair while I gasp for breath, gripping tight as he frees one hand, placing it between us rubbing touching with skill before moving to my nipples both of which are already hard.  
"I want you so bad," Shane confides and I make a strangled incoherent noise in response, bucking my hips impatiently. Then, he's moving, he's inside and there's no way I can keep quiet, I think, biting his shoulder hard, hard enough to leave a mark as I try to stifle my screams while he takes me making me lose my mind again and again before the hot water peters out, leaving the both of us chilly and exhausted but happy. Lit up from the inside out.

xx

"Good shower?" Lori asks once I've actually emerged fully dressed into the common area sometime later, making me guffaw-if only she knew. The entire group probably would have, had I not clamped down on Shane, muffling myself as best I could.  
"Well there are showers, think they have washing machines?" Jacqui asks from behind Lori entering the open room and making me laugh as Lori throws her towel at the other woman in exasperation."Jac!"  
"Honestly, what is your deal with major ap-" I break off as Shane stumbles out of the bathroom behind me wearing fresh clothes and clutching the still partially full bottle of whiskey in his hand. Shane has consumed quite a bit of it-we both have.  
I'm turning towards him, arms out but I don't move quick enough to miss the widening of Lori's eyes or her facial expression as if she'd just been slapped. "Okay," I gently pry the bottle from his intoxicated fingers, lacing mine through them as a replacement, passing the bottle to whoever will take it. "Time for bed. Let's go, handsome,"  
Shane smiles at me using full wattage and I melt. Sometimes just being around him is like falling in love all over again, even if I can't quite heft his drunk ass. "Lead the way, sweetheart."  
"What is it that you think you're doing?" Lori, as we brush past her.  
Ignoring this, we don't make it down our hallway, Shane and I, or at least not very far,  
We hardly make it a few measly feet before it becomes gruelingly clear that I'm physically unable to schlepp him around.  
"Little help here, T?" I call hopefully as I catch a glimpse of Dog wandering around ahead of us. Being the kind man that he is, T doubles back stopping whatever it was he was doing to help, taking Shane's arm and throwing it over his own shoulders.  
"Thank you," I sigh, relieved "We're in room-"  
"I know," T cuts me off, laughing. "And you're welcome, Savannah."  
I beam a smile up at the two of them which feels false on my face as if it will crack in half.  
"I'll be right there, babe," I assure Shane, shocking myself with how calm I sound-I'm shaking like a leaf in a windstorm as I turn back to Lori who has followed closely behind. "Talk to you a minute?"  
I'm polite enough to phrase this as a question when I know it isn't. Maybe it's the booze, but I intend to have this out with Lori tonight. Now.  
"Sure," Lori seems surprised but she has no idea yet.  
"There's wine Rick's abandoned in the library-come have some with me,"  
I follow Lori, Jaq sending me a questioning worried look which I ignore, and slam the door behind us, taking pains to press in the flimsy lock so this won't be interrupted. "Personally, I've always preferred red, and this is white, but any port in a storm, huh?"  
Lori turns towards me when I don't answer, bottle held loftily in the air.  
Before I even know I'm reacting I've moved, converging on Lori, my hand wrapping around her skinny neck like it's got a mind of its own, using this advantage to push her up against the wall.  
Shocked, Lori drops the bottle which lands on the carpet with a dull 'think' and then quiet glugging as the wine pours out.  
I'm not choking Lori by any means but I am holding her in place and though I'm not aware of it at the time, gauging scratch marks into her neck with my fingernails, three neat lines. It seems impossible but the surprised look on her face does noting but make me angrier.  
"What is it that I think I'm doing?" I echo incredulously before diving right into the matter at hand.  
"You think I don't know what happened between you and Shane-You think I don't see the way you look at him with your damsel-in-distress act?" Lori tries to speak and this time I do squeeze. Whiskey always had turned me mean.  
"Shut up. You don't talk to him, you don't look at him, you don't think about him. He belongs to me-he loves me. Are we clear?"  
Lori nods and I let her go, amazed at my own anger.  
I give Lori one last contemptuous look before I leave here there, standing in the library and shaking as I go to find Shane.


	22. Suspicious Minds

A/N:  
Thank you thank you princesspenguin14 for going without sleep to see what happens next ;)

Whitenoises not a weird review at all! I enjoyed it quite a bit-I've tried to keep Savannah kind of vague so people can step into her shoes more easily and empathize with her situation, you know? And I agree, I can totally hear the way Shane would say it lol

Shane's quiet at first when I've returned to our room and settled in. I'm towel-drying my hair, lost in my own thoughts as I try to calm down and almost miss Shane speaking, entirely. "I went to go see him."  
"What's that, babe?" Shane sits heavily on the leather couch dominating most of the room, shirtless rubbing the back of his damp head the absolute picture of exhaustion.  
"I went to go see Rick, did you know that? When everything went down, before I came for you, I went and saw Rick."  
I'd known, of course I'd known, but this has the air of a confession and I keep quiet, draping my damp towel over a nearby chair. We obviously had other business to attend to, but I'd long since wondered about this, the particulars.  
"I swear to God, Savannah, I thought he was dead. I put my head to his chest and I...walkers got into the hospital, Van, or turned there. Soldiers were shooting people, innocent people. It was a massacre, absolute chaos."  
Shane's voice is rough and uneven, thick with un-shed tears, making me wish he hadn't drank so much.  
"We don't have to talk about it-"  
"No, see, we do. I listened; I listened and I couldn't find a heartbeat, nothing. Hardest thing I ever did, leaving him there. And I need to know...I need to know that you don't think any less of me, that you understand," I'd heard enough, more than enough for one night.  
This was still Shane, the man I loved. "Hey," I cut him off sharply, sitting down on the arm of the couch, taking his hand which grips mine bordering on painful. "Listen to me: you did what you thought was right. I trust your judgement, okay?"  
Nothing. "Okay?" I press. Shane nods and I take care to kiss his forehead softly. "I love you,"  
The moment was tender, sweet, before he leans back into the couch arm around my waist, bringing me with him, the both of us landing with an 'oof'. "Let's get a cot set up and go to bed, babe," I propose, making his chest shake with laughter.  
"Tried to tell you earlier-we don't need the cot, we'll sleep just like this."  
Shane, stretched out, me literally on top of him length-wise.  
"I want to keep you just like this. Close as I can." I kiss his chin and settle myself a little more comfortably in his arms.  
"You're drunk," my protests are feeble. "And you're going to wake up with a crick in your neck on top of the hangover."  
I stop, gauge the moment while I clear my throat and then bite the bullet, figuratively speaking.  
"I know about Lori." I blurt out before I can think better of it and feel Shane go very still beneath me.  
For a moment I'm sure he doesn't even breathe and I'm glad I can't see the expression on his face.  
"Savannah..." He sounds helpless and I shake my head, unwilling to let him play the victim.  
"How many times?"  
"Once. And it was a mistake, Savannah Jane, I swear to God. I love you." I ignore this.  
"The day Amy went looking for mushrooms, right? And Lori took over for her?"  
Shane doesn't speak which I take for a yes. I'd known anyhow-looking back, he'd been acting so weird those few days-and I don't need Shane's confirmation. I sit up to place some distance between us and then, to complete my humiliation, I begin to cry, big drunken tears sliding down my face. "Savannah Jane, don't," Shane reaches up instinctually to wipe my tears away and I jerk my head severely back, away from his touch. "It was one time," Shane reiterates. "And I regretted it as soon as it happened. I'm so damn sorry, girl,"  
"Do you love her?" This, unlike the last question I'd asked already knowing the answer, I needed reassurance on.  
"No," Shane reaches up for me and this time I allow it.  
"Do you love me?" Sounding pathetic, but unable to help myself. Shane looks at me as if I'm insane and that's answer enough, but still, he speaks. "I love you, Savannah. And I will never do anything to hurt you again, I promise you,"  
I get up and pace a little, working over this. In the old world I would have thought anyone who stayed with a cheater was an idiot.  
But the old world was gone, dead and buried. And this was Shane.  
After a few moments of this which Shane endures silently I pull myself together, flicking the light off and climbing back onto the couch with him. "I love you," Shane repeats again there in the dark, tentative.  
"I know it. You wouldn't work so hard to keep us alive otherwise,"  
I hesitate before this next even though it's the truth. "I love you, too."

xx

We've adjusted our cramped positions sometime during the night and it was nice to come awake slowly still bathed in relative darkness and feeling safe, a sure improvement over most mornings (and sometimes, yes, nights) where we'd jerk awake heart hammering, suspicious of our surroundings. It would almost be perfect, if not for our hangovers, mine worse than Shane's something I was bitterly upset about; he'd drank way more and felt okay. Despite my protests and general bitchiness we head straight for the kitchen where T is manning the stove making eggs from a powder and waving a spatula around as he speaks.  
Glenn groans sounding not unlike a walker in this is another one of his sentiments I find myself whole-heartedly agreeing with as I turn right back around, headed for the nearest bathroom, groaning myself.  
I have time to turn the sink on, taking care to blast the cold water to smother the sound and for a moment I think I'll be able to hold my gorge, but alas the moment is fleeting and I'm soon on the cool tile floor yarking up Maker's Mark and red wine, a lovely combination.  
Shane comes after me, finding me rooting around for a tube of toothpaste, squirting it directly into my foul-tasting mouth. I catch sight of my reflection and underneath these energy-saving fluorescent lights, I look positively green.  
My husband has the nerve to look not only smug but amused. "Go away, Shane,"  
"Brought you somethin'," I eye him dubiously until he hold a cup of coffee aloft in one hand, a bottle of Advil rattling around in the other.  
I feel a wave of relief as I take the booty and he comes closer, kissing my chartreuse forehead.  
"It's gonna be okay, Savannah Jane," Shane soothes, rubbing the back of my neck tenderly.  
"We're safe now. C'mon, take these." I throw the aspirin and caffeine back quickly, standing very still until I'm sure the concoction is going to stay down. "Good girl," Shane smiles, "You okay?"  
I nod then stop at once when my head begins to spin. "Okay."  
"Good," Shane takes my hand, leading me from the room,  
"The Doc's got something to show us,"


	23. In The Mourning

A/N: I debated not posting this in the wake of the weeks events, but went ahead on with it, as it's the last installment. I'm sad to leave this story behind, but (as I think I've mentioned) there's always the sequel, so rest assured you have not seen the last of Savannah/Shane  
You guys are the best and I thank you for sharing this journey with me.

The doctor has decided to make us privy to his research, share his findings. His attitude has done a complete 180 overnight, going from sneaky and frankly, creepy, to open and welcoming, yet still creepy. The only explanation I can come up with is that he's desperate to talk shop again, to a person and not a computer even if the talking is in layman's terms.  
"TS-19." Jenner announces, drawing my attention to the present, throbbing headache and all while we stand there looking at him questioningly, waiting for elaboration as a scan lights up a screen the room's dominant feature.  
Slowly, methodically, Jenner takes us through the process of a turn using his visual aids and, his booming voice, and occasionally, VI's.  
This information is a lot to take in at once and I reach out blindly to clutch Shane's arm.  
Everything's both harder and easier at the same time-there's nothing left, not once you've been bitten.  
The very essential human part of you is gone, irrevocable.  
We really weren't killing people, after all. All the people, it seemed, present company excluded, were gone.  
"Man, I'm gon' get shit-faced drunk," Daryl announces, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, hard.  
He has a point-it is depressing, if not illuminating. "Again."  
I reach out to him without thinking, letting go of Shane to absentmindedly rub Daryl's broad back.  
It is a soothing maternal gesture and I'm surprised when he tolerates it.  
"What's the clock for?" Dale asks, startling everyone. The man had been largely silent up until this point. "I mean, what happens at zero?"  
There's evasions, an argument I hardly listen to until Rick drags the computer into it-VI can't lie to us, at least, and she tells us tales of spontaneous combustion, sending everyone into a tailspin looking for first exits and then generators. The men, anyhow.  
Us women (and Dale) hang back in our rooms, unsure of our place and what's to come next.  
Shane'd gone off with the rest of them leaving me behind to try (and succeed mostly) to remain calm about the entire thing, encouraging everyone else to do the same. My moderate victory in accomplishing this collapses in on itself when the A/C fails followed by most of the lights, leaving us with no choice but to crowd back into the main room like sheep, luring by the remaining electricity.  
"Shutting things down," Jenner informs us serenely between chugs of wine straight from the bottle. "Prioritizing energy."  
Practically everything he was saying at the moment sounded ominous-he could very well recite the phone book and I'd be terrified.  
Keeping a tight reign on the emotion for everyone else's sake, but terrified nonetheless.  
We're trying to make heads or tails of his this situation when the men come charging back in, Lori calling for Rick.  
I head straight to Shane, laying a hand on his sweaty, heaving chest, waiting as patiently as I can while he catches his breath.  
Rick, frantic as everyone else, somehow manages to get Jenner talking yet again, spelling out our ultimate demise, concluding with a smug "We're right on track!" He sounded almost proud of his lab, the one that would soon be frying us to death; he really was batshit crazy.  
"It was the French," Jenner informs us self-importantly while I stand there with the rest of the group, my hands off of Shane and shaking. "They were the last to hold out."  
This statement, tossed out as if it were nothing brings it home to me; this virus, this infection, this walking nightmare had crossed oceans, invaded other countries than ours. There was no safe haven to strive towards. There was no running away.  
And, to pile on the devastation, the French had supposedly been close to a cure.  
Yet, here we were. And here we would stay, just like the French who had run out of power like sand in a damn hour glass.  
I suddenly find myself wavering, my vision dark around the corners as I gasped for breath-this was too much.  
On autopilot, I begin to gather Shane and I's things, responding to Ricks shouting without even a moment's hesitation.  
It was good to have something to do, something to focus on. I have one strap on my shoulder when the alarm begins blaring, however briefly and then Shane's there, picking up bags of his own, shouldering the weight just as the doors slide closed.

xx

Everyone freezes in place as we realize the gravity of our situation before we all fly into action, a flurry of shed bags and, in Daryl's case, bared firsts. "I told you," Jenner yells belligerently.  
"Once that door closes, it can't be opened. I said that, you heard me say that."  
I'm in actual shock, and I believe it can not get any worse than this when an HIT is explained to me.  
The hits, to borrow a phrase, just keep on coming. "It sets the air on fire." Jenner explains.  
The mad scientist continues speaking but I find it impossible to follow his diatribe over the roaring in my ears.  
Shane reaches for me, grabbing my hand and I grip hard, my spine stiffening with resolve.  
"It can't end like this." I announce definitively, thinking of Carl and Sophia.  
"It won't," Shane assures me before he and Daryl take off both of them wielding axes stolen from who knows where.  
"I can't make a dent," he tells me moments later, winded, sweating even more as he leans on a nearby counter.  
This time it's Shane's back that I reach out to rub comfortingly. I haven't seen Shane this close to tears since that day in the hospital parking lot and that feels like another life, one that belongs to a different girl.  
"I love you," I tell Shane hopelessly at a loss for words and without responding, he takes off spurned into action by my simple declaration and oh Jesus, he chooses now to go after one of the guns. I don't know the Shane that points his rifle at Jenner, or recognize the one who fires it into the air, screaming. For once, I don't even register the fact that Lori's being a meddlesome bitch. "Baby,"  
I've got my hands on him, pushing back futilely, trying to keep him away from Jenner.  
After it has become abundantly clear that I am accomplishing jack shit, T-Dog hauls me out of the way, clearing a path for Rick to intervene. The Shane that's so out of control his best friend has to take him down? I don't recognize that Shane, either.

xx

"What the FUCK were you thinking?" I demand of him, shoving angrily the moment he's calmed down and climbed back to his feet.  
Behind us, Daryl starts again with that tiresome ax.  
"It doesn't matter, Savannah Jane," Shane sighs, rubbing his freshly bruised forehead. "It's over."  
I'm too angry to speak, terrified that this is really the end and I'll spoil everything by saying something unkind, spew out the hateful thoughts running through my mind if I so much as open my mouth, forced to walk away from the man I love.  
Miraculously, he comes after me, actually crying now, leaning into me hard and unexpected-if I hadn't been braced on a nearby desk we both would have gone sprawling. Instead of falling, I plant my feet and wrap my arms around his shaking shoulders, speaking into his dirty, too-long hair, telling him that I loved him with every breath that I took, heedless of how many I might have left.  
Shane's gathering himself, looking up at me with his bright eyes and-incredibly-making a joke about finding ourselves a private corner.  
He is disgusting and I have never been more consumed by another human being in my life.  
Thankfully, blessedly, I don't have to say this to him in so many words or contemplate any of the darkened cubbies the room has to offer because at this exact moment, before Shane can even reach his punchline (something sure to be along the lines of 'going out with a bang'), the doors open before us, hallway dotted with dim emergency lights and it's like a breath of fresh air, seeing that. or like sweet tea on a summer day or any other cliche you could ever possibly think of. In short, it is a relief.

xx

There's four minutes on the clock when we all separate, much to my chagrin.  
I have time to squeeze Jacqui's hand before Shane is pushing me along ahead of himself before going back for T.  
There's no time to contemplate our loss, no time to even think as we bolt up the stairs to the ground floor.  
It's like our minds are shutting down the non-priority items, just as the building had done, such as emotions .  
All that we can think of right now is survival, putting one foot in front of the other.

We're at three minutes when we reach the lobby, sun pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows we can not penetrate no matter how badly we want to, or how much we try. The ax comes into play again, a chair, Shane's rifle.  
Shane's yelling at T-Dog to get down the very same instant he's cocking his gun and I realize in a split-second what he intends to do.  
"Shane, careful," I warn worried sick about a ricochet as he pulls the trigger again and again until the chamber is empty.  
The glass is bulletproof, and honestly, we should have known.  
"I have something," Carol announces, rooting around in her purse. She looks scared out of her mind, but game. "It might help."  
"Carol, I don't think a nail file's gonna do it," Shane reprimands the woman and while there's no time to feel exasperated at him I feel a wave of the emotion anyhow. Carol was strong as hell, to have survived the life and death of Ed Peltier-couldn't he see that?  
My exasperation at Shane is vilified as she produces a hand grenade, a surreal sight.  
I feel ridiculously proud of her. Before any of us can react or congratulate her on her smart thinking, Rick is yelling his booming voice instructing us to get down and we all drop immediately, Shane landing heavily on top of me, bodily protecting what he thought of as 'his' before the glass breaks. Hallelujah.

Two minutes left as we're racing out into the putrid air which is scores more tolerable now that we're aware of how close we were to not breathing at all, even if there are still walkers surrounding the perimeter.  
Everyone clambers into the RV and I begin to follow suit before doubling back, going to Shane who had stupidly climbed into his precious Jeep. I never understood what went through his mind, it seemed now or ever. He blinks at me standing next to the drivers side.  
"Savannah, what are you doing?" What am I doing? That was rich. "Get in the-" Shane's cut off by the RV's horn honking loudly and Lori shouting at Dale to get down, which is ridiculous because Dale had stayed behind. Still, I could read the honking and the shouting well enough; our time was up. The CDC was going.  
I duck down, curling up tight next to one of the tires feeling first a woosh of hot air, speckled with debris followed by a roar that strikes the lot of us temporarily def. Then, in a moment, it's over and we can relax just a notch as the crisis is averted.  
Averted or not, my legs are shaking so badly that when I stand I'm not sure that they'll support me, until they do.  
I stand there, Shane and I staring blankly at one another, taking stock making sure we're both whole.  
"You stupid girl," he accuses in a funny tone of voice before kissing me, hard, and I scramble across him to take my place next to him in the passenger seat. We're the last in the carpool that how somehow inexplicably become a family, driving back the way we came without speaking as a black mushroom cloud blooms ominously behind us, blotting out the cities landscape, Jacqui left behind somewhere in all of that mess. It's miles later and my throat is thick with un-shed tears when Shane flips his CD player on, the Skynyrd disk still happily residing in there. Freebird, this time.  
It is achingly appropriate and this sends me right over the edge, tears streaming freely down my face as Shane comforts me with one hand, steering with the other. "It's gonna be okay," he tells me just as he had hours before and I nod, turing up the volume.  
We'd survived together this long, so in a lot of ways, I supposed everything already was.

Part II is up!

just type in the regular fanfiction site name then slash then s/9508610/1/Gravel-In-Our-Voices !


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